Shadowplay
by NayanRoo
Summary: In the underworld, deals are made and broken daily. When a family member returns to the city with an unexpected proposal, will it bring peace--or will it destroy them all? ItaNeji OroSasu MadaHina
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is set in the universe of one of my one-shots, The Covered Sun. It isn't necessary to read that before this, but it will provide a bit of background.

* * *

The long limo pulled up in front of the Uchiha tower. The windows were all strongly tinted black, and the only indication that it belonged there was the flag flying from the hood. It bore the Uchiha insignia, on a field of royal blue.

The driver got out, his assistant springing out of the cab and running the length of the vehicle, opening the door so its sole occupant could get out. Thanking the assistant in a soft voice, the man collected his briefcase and walked up to the entrance, the two guards standing beside it scrambling to get the glass doors open fast enough. He walked through, a nod to both, and with purposeful strides not affected at all by the sudden scrambling of Uchiha family members to bow as he passed, went right up to the receptionist's desk. She looked up at him, did a double take, and went pale.

"Uchiha-san—"

"I'm here to see Fugaku. _Now_."

"O-Of course sir, I'll page him and tell him you're on your way up." The receptionist, a pretty young Uchiha named Shiroi, knew that Fugaku was in the middle of a meeting right now but he would definitely leave it for this man. "You know which floor to go to."

"Of course I do." He smiled at the girl, and she flushed. "Thank you." Turning, the man made his way to the elevators, pressed the button, and pulled an executive keycard out of a pocket.

The receptionist had been reaching for the special phone that connected right to Fugaku's phone, anxiously watching as the man got into an elevator and the doors closed. At least the boss picked up, sounding distinctly irritated. "What?"

"He's here, Fugaku-san, sir," Shiroi said, swallowing.

"Who's here?"

"Your uncle," she said, the silence on the line becoming oppressive now. "Uchiha Madara is on his way up to your office right now."

* * *

Fugaku was waiting when the elevator doors pinged open on the sixty-third floor of the Uchiha compound. The head of the Uchiha family and its associated underworld ring was a man in his forties who had once been fit, but now had the look of an athlete gone to seed. Nonetheless, he had an air of authority around him that his underlings respected and obeyed. Fugaku was a strong man, but a fair man, and they respected that, for they knew there was nobody he feared and nothing to fear as long as he was around.

Except, of course, this man.

Fugaku's expression betrayed none of his trepidation or worrying however. The myriad questions—_why is he here, what does he want—_could, and would wait. Madara, ever the mercurial one, would explain himself on his own time. That was always how it was with the older man, and even with his limited contact, Fugaku had learned to deal with this.

So when Madara stepped off the elevator, that chilly smile on his face, Fugaku was there, bowing as low as he could. "Madara-sama," he said with the proper amount of reverence. "It is always a pleasure to have your company here."

"Fugaku-san." Madara nodded his head. "It is good to see you again. You are looking well."

"Thank you, Madara-sama." Fugaku rose after a moment, gesturing to a table and chairs set off in a little nook of this part of the airy offices of the chief executives of the Uchiha Corporation. "Would you like some tea? I thought perhaps you would be thirsty after your long trip."

"Of course I would like tea, Fugaku-san," Madara said. Fugaku went ahead of him immediately, the office assistants bustling around to set out the teacups, bring the kettle of water and a warmer to put the kettle on to warm it. "But," he continued as he sat, and gave that curious little smile again, "It has not been a long trip here. I am back in the city once more, after many long months spent abroad."

"In the city?" Fugaku asked. His tone was innocuous enough, the enquiry of one man to his superior. Inside, he was gripped suddenly. What would bring Madara back to the city after so many _years_ away?

A young man, long black hair in a ponytail, brought the tea leaves over. With a tiny pair of silver tongs he lifted each leaf and put them into a tea ball until it was full, and lowered it carefully into the warming water. Every motion was graceful, purposefully made. Fugaku nodded. "Madara-sama, may I present my son, Itachi? He has recently graduated from the premier university of law in the city at the head of his class. He is due to sit his exams to get licensure in a month."

"Itachi." Madara's smile was more warm, welcoming. He inclined his head. Itachi bowed lower than his father.

"Great-Uncle Madara-sama," he said. "I am honored to meet you."

"The honor is mine. I have heard of your achievements, Itachi-kun, and I am impressed. You will be an asset to this company." Fugaku, in that minute, decided he did not like Madara smiling so much. It did not mean any good, particularly when focused on a certain person as it was now. He felt a surge of parental protection for his eldest son.

"Thank you, Madara-sama," Itachi said. He remained bowing, abasing himself.

"Please, call me Uncle from now on. I should like to be more familiar with both of you—and I will be, in the months to come."

_That_, Fugaku decided, _definitely_ did not bode well.

"Yes, Uncle," Itachi said smoothly, and collected himself. "Father, with your permission I will return to pour the tea once it is ready. I would like to continue studying."

"Of course, Itachi."

"And do join us for a cup," Madara called. One of the servants flitted forward, bringing an extra sitting. Fugaku hid his displeasure with ease. That done, Madara dismissed the other people in the area with a wave of his hand, and they left quickly and quietly. Fugaku was glad for the moment he'd had to prepare them all.

"Now, Fugaku…" Madara leaned forward on the table, dark eyes calculating now. Every other time Fugaku had seen the man who had founded the Uchiha business and set up the drug trafficking ring that the business covered, he had worn this expression, and he relaxed. This was known territory.

"I am sure you are wondering what I am doing back here so suddenly, without announcing myself to you beforehand…" Actually, Fugaku was more wondering the first part; the second, he scoffed at, as Madara never bothered to announce himself anyway, he simply showed up. "It is because, dear nephew, I have found a cunning way to elevate ourselves and bring to heel that unruly dog which nips at both our heels, using it to crush the wolf circling us."

It wasn't hard to decipher Madara's metaphor. The man had looked out the tinted glass windows toward the Hyuuga tower, the bright sun of their insignia blazing gold in the smoggy sunlight. And in the distance, Hebi Corporation's tower, the three purple commas barely even visible. "You seek to bring Hyuuga under…our control? And crush Hebi? How?" Madara's smirk was positively evil this time, and Fugaku felt a chill run through him.

Madara told him.

* * *

Sitting at a low table just within earshot of the small area where Fugaku and Madara were having tea, Uchiha Itachi sat, bent over his study book with a black ball-point, and listening to every word said.

Fugaku had barely had time to set the spot up (it was hidden behind a screen of bamboo beside one of the tinkling fountains that jutted out into the long rectangle that was the CEO's office) before he'd had to rush off to the elevators to greet Madara. Itachi had set his books here as though he was indeed studying, and had performed admirably when asked. And now he was listening, and writing, and mulling the whole conversation over in his head.

"_What I propose is a marriage, Fugaku-san. A union of Hyuuga and Uchiha—unprecedented, isn't it?"_

"_But Madara-sama, the current boss, Hiashi… he does have two daughters and a nephew of marriageable age, but—"_

"_Hyuuga Hinata. The oldest daughter and the heir to Hiashi's seat. She is the one."_ Madara's tone had shaken something within Itachi at this point, and he'd very studiously written nonsense in the margins of his study guide while listening.

"_There is no way he'd ever agree to it. And even if he did—who? Itachi and Sasuke are both of the proper age, but…"_

Itachi had pursed his lips at that. He knew that until one of them became head, he and his younger brother were pawns to be married off or withheld at will, and he knew some of the up-and-coming rings, hoping to get the backing of a powerful leader such as the Uchiha, had sent daughters. Fugaku had held off on accepting any offer for either of his sons, as Itachi was barely out of law school and Sasuke would be starting university soon.

During his musing, he'd apparently missed some of the conversation, because as he tuned back in, Fugaku was speaking.

"…_impossible, utterly impossible, Madara-sama. Even Sasuke is a stretch at best, but this—"_

"_Do you doubt my ability to arrange things as I please, Fugaku-san? I will have this my way; Hiashi will bow to my wishes as I ask them. It simply requires delicacy."_

Remembering the tea, Itachi got up and straightened his black suit jacket. He liked this suit, and how it looked with a black silk shirt and red silk tie, with a red square of cloth in the breast pocket, and a little uchiwa pinned to the lapel. Itachi liked to cut a nice figure, and dress properly. He swept in at a quiet moment, and did not look at either as he poured first Madara's tea, and then his father's tea. Seeing there was a third setting, Itachi could only guess who it was for, and poured his tea last before sitting with his hands on his thighs.

"So, Itachi-kun." Madara turned to him, smiling as he picked up his cup of tea. "So sorry to interrupt your studies. I always try to encourage education as much as I can; it is important to learn. Knowledge is a luxury not everyone can have, you know."

"I understand, Uncle," Itachi said. "You are correct."

"I am glad you think so." Madara sipped his tea. "Ah, this is perfect. Well-done, Itachi-kun. In my time away from the city, I fear that I have had to sometimes endure sub-par tea."

"Thank you, Uncle." Itachi shot a look at his father, a sidelong one. Fugaku had twin spots of color high on his cheeks; he was furious, Itachi thought. What was it that he had missed hearing?

"Truly you will be the future of this company." Madara put his hand on Itachi's shoulder. "Fugaku, name this young man your heir."

"Madara-sama, then what of—"

"That is of my concern." Madara smiled. Itachi felt chilled, despite the fact the sunlight was hitting them head-on through the window. "It has naught to do with this company, other than the lip service. You more than anyone know that all that runs this city is lip service." A sip of tea, droplets glistening on full Uchiha lips before they were licked up by a quick tongue. "It is deplorable, however much it benefits our ilk."

"Then what you are saying…"

"Get rid of it entirely." Madara made a cutting gesture with his hand. "Dissolve the government of this city—and the country too for that matter. There is no need for it."

"That would throw the citizens into confusion, Madara-sama."

"No, for there will be another to look to." Madara smirked. "Uchiha-Hyuuga, Incorporated."

"Forgive me, Madara-sama, but I still think—"

"You doubt too much, Fugaku-san." Madara smiled. "It will work. Trust me."

That, Itachi thought as he listened to the older men talk, was the last thing anyone would want to do.

* * *

Sasuke walked right up to the elevators of Hebi Corporation without a word to the receptionist, sliding the keycard, thumbing the button and standing back, waiting for the elevator to come down. To his surprise, it pinged open immediately; someone must have just come down. He stepped in and slid his keycard, pressing the button for the top floor.

With a high-pitched whine, the elevator rose into the sky. Impatient, Sasuke shifted. He never liked this long ride up; in the windowless elevator, it felt too much like he was drifting, unrooted to the Earth, and that was a feeling he didn't like one bit.

At last the elevator opened and he stepped out, heading to the checkpoint. Sliding his card, Sasuke let his fingertips rest on the edge briefly for identification of DNA, and when the device beeped, he pulled his card out and walked through the now-open gate, nodding to Kidoumaru. The snakes on the stairs slithered aside for his passage.

"Sasuke-kun," his teacher said, standing. "How was your school?"

"Boring." Sasuke stopped a few feet from the huge mahogany desk and bowed, strands of dark hair shifting around his face. The sound of feet on plush carpet.

"Rise." Fingers touched his chin, tilting his head up, and the rest of Sasuke's body followed. "I have a job for you."

Sasuke's voice betrayed nothing when he spoke, but his eyes had glittered dangerously. Orochimaru smirked; the boy was learning quickly and well, and was already more skilled than any of his previous pets had been. Of course, Sasuke was hardly the lapdog they'd been… he was a dangerous child, just the way Orochimaru liked him.

"Who is it?"

"The information is in this folder." Orochimaru scooped a manila folder off his desk and handed it to Sasuke. "The client wishes it taken care of posthaste."

Sasuke noted the little sun marking in the upper corner of the documents and snorted. "The Hyuugas can't take care of their own dirty laundry?"

"They like to keep their hands spotless. And that is what we are here for, isn't it?" An underling brought tea; there was a little message-paper tucked under one of the cups, and Orochimaru scooped that up too, reading it. Sasuke watched as his brow furrowed. That was never a good sign.

"What is it?" He gestured with the cup to the piece of paper as Orochimaru set it on his desk.

"Carry that out," Orochimaru said. "But before you do kill the man, be sure to go back to the Uchiha tower first. Your great-uncle Madara is back in town, and it would be highly suspect if you did not go pay your respects."

"_What?_ Why?"

"I do not know." Orochimaru pinched the bridge of his nose. "I do not know what the man could possibly want. He left the business a long time ago, or so we all believed…" Orochimaru appeared lost in thought a moment, until his amber eyes snapped back to Sasuke. "Report to me when the job is done. I will notify Hiashi-kun."

"Yes, sensei." Sasuke bowed again and left, mind whirling.

Why the _hell_ was Madara here?


	2. Chapter 2

Neji thanked his driver and climbed the steps of the Hyuuga building, through the steel-and-bulletproof glass doors, and into the huge airy entrance hall. The Hyuuga building was designed with light and space in mind; there were little balconies on each level with tables and chairs set among planters full of beautiful plants. Tropical on one level; water plants on another; big fruit trees laden with blossoms in the spring on still another level. The Hyuuga loved beauty.

It was, therefore, ironic that they were one of the most bloodthirsty families in the underworld, that their definition of beauty extended to the splatter of blood across a white shirt, the expression a target wore when they died. It was beautiful, to be sure, but in a morbid way that Neji was almost certain the ring's founders did not want to see happen. But then again, it was their way of life.

He got in the elevator, keyed the proper authorization code, and the elevator rose to his floor. He did not look out the window this time; he knew he would see the glowing uchiwa, the yellow, sick sunlight glinting on the rival company's glassy tower. The Uchiha were a showy lot, all beautiful pale skin and black hair, but they were all the same underneath, and all of them caved to a pretty face and a nice ass.

Neji was out of the elevator before the doors could even open all the way, and in his apartment before they closed again. He needed a shower desperately, still able to feel that man's hands in his hair (it was still damp underneath from his shower earlier too, oh well), and taste his issue. Grimacing, the Hyuuga pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and drank half of it. That was better.

Shower.

Neji moved about, hanging up his suit jacket, putting his phone on speaker and listening to his voicemail. Hinata, saying she would need him to pick her up from school. Lee and Tenten, his two remaining friends from high school, asking him to come out clubbing with them tonight. Hiashi, sounding more terse than usual, requesting his presence upstairs as soon as he returned from the errand. Hinata again, sounding utterly panicked—why, he didn't know, her school didn't get out for another few hours. Neji huffed as he set his shoes aside and took off his pants. Shower, call Hinata back and tell her he would pick her up, then Hiashi. He would call Lee and Tenten later.

The water he turned all the way up, scalding his body. At least it made him feel clean again, despite the fact he emerged a very vibrant shade of red. While waiting for his skin to go back to its usual shade, he called Hinata and left her a voicemail, telling her he would pick her up. As he combed out his hair, long strands hanging to the tops of his thighs, he considered his wardrobe and picked out an appropriate outfit, tying his hair back once it was sleek again. Unless things were done in a proper order, Neji's hair was an unmanageable, silken mess, given to tangles and frizz, and nothing could be done to tame it unless he washed it again.

The phone rang as he was tying his tie in a Half Windsor. Reaching over, he put the speakerphone back on and pressed the TALK button. "Hello?"

"Neji." It was his uncle, sounding distinctly troubled. Neji kept his voice neutral, although his expression in the mirror was anything but.

"Yes, Hiashi-san?"

"You have been back in the tower for forty-five minutes and have not answered my request to come see me."

"Forgive me, Hiashi-san, I was showering. I did not wish to see you when I was in a state of disarray." A pointed reminder that Neji had just been with a client.

"Ah, yes, yes… understandable." Hiashi sounded distracted. Neji heard the shifting of papers. "When you are ready, come up to my office."

"I am already on my way, Hiashi-san."

"Excellent." Hiashi hung up, and Neji pushed the END button.

As he was putting on his suit jacket, the phone rang again; it was Kiba, downstairs. "Neji," he said. "Look out. Some Uchihas came when you were gone."

"Uchihas? Why? We haven't—"

"It wasn't anything we did. They had something for Hiashi."

A thousand scenarios blazed through Neji's mind, involving hostage situations and fighting throughout both towers as the respective agents showed their true colors and started a war. "Kiba, what—"

His panic must have shown through his voice because Kiba interrupted quickly. "No, nothing bad. They just came, delivered a letter, and left."

Neji pursed his lips. This was going to be complicated. "Thank you for the heads-up, Kiba."

"No problem, man. Hiashi looks pretty pissed. Be careful."

"I will. Goodbye."

Neji thumbed his phone off and took the elevator up farther, blinking to clear the glare from his eyes when the elevator opened onto the huge, sunlit executive office. It was almost four walls of full-length windows, and the heat was oppressive. The air conditioning was going—he felt it as he passed under the vents—but it did nothing to counteract the heat. Hiashi, however, appeared unaffected, until Neji got close enough to see the sweat on his brow. The man looked troubled, and the young Hyuuga made a node of this as he bowed low. "I apologize for taking so long, Hiashi-san. Please forgive me."

"Of course, of course." Hiashi made a distracted gesture with his hand and Neji stood. "You wanted to clean up, yes, anyone would want to… sit, please."

The head of the Hyuuga family was an organized man, who from long experience Neji knew liked to keep his desk and work area neat. There was rarely a document out of place, but today, papers were strewn about in disarray, the edges misaligned as though they had hastily been picked up. But there was a small clean space between Hiashi's elbows, and in that space there was a letter. Even here, Neji could clearly see the Uchiha insignia on the single sheet.

"How old is my eldest daughter, Neji?" Hiashi asked. The question gave the young man pause.

"Hinata-san is seventeen, and will be eighteen in five months. Why, Hiashi-san?"

"Neji, do you believe she is old enough to be wed?"

"She will graduate early, at the end of this coming semester." Neji kept his gaze, his voice neutral. "Eighteen is young for a marriage, but she will do your bidding. Hinata-san knows you would not give her to anyone you did not approve of."

"Does she," Hiashi murmured. Neji remained silent. The older man's grey eyes were faraway and yet remained on the sheet of fine paper before him. "Someone I approve... even if he's thrice her age or more, and an Uchiha?"

Neji met Hiashi's gaze. "If you asked it of her, perhaps." He paused. "Has there been such a proposal?"

In answer, Hiashi shoved the letter at him, as though it burned his fingertips. Neji took it and turned it around so he could read it. His own stormcloud-grey eyes widened when he had finished. "They aren't serious," he said, not caring how he sounded. "They cannot be."

The temperature in the room had risen, it seemed.

"They are," Hiashi said. He sounded miserable, moreso than Neji had ever heard him.

"But how? Hasn't he—"

"It doesn't matter _how_, it matters _why_." Hiashi stood, began to pace. "Why would the Uchiha want a union now? That is what this is, you know. Proposed marriage, proposed merger. Why?"

"I am not sure, Hiashi-san."

"And why this match? It makes no sense, there is no reason why they should think I will agree to it at all, and yet… they act as though…" He made a dismissive gesture. "They are arrogant, and he is most of all."

"You are going to reject their offer then?" He could feel sweat beading up along his spine, and shifted a bit. The tickle went away, but he could feel the same prickling elsewhere, and sighed.

"Of course I am." Hiashi's snap was immediate and intense, and Neji bowed his head slightly under the glare. "Do you think I would marry one of my daughters to that—that—"

"Not for a moment, Hiashi-san. It would never work."

"No, it wouldn't." Hiashi sat again and brought his desktop computer humming to life. "I will draft a letter to them, rejecting it. Tomorrow I would like you to proofread and deliver it. And while you are out, because I know you are going to have to go get Hinata from school, run another errand for me."

"What is it?"

"Go talk to Jiraiya, and ask him what he knows about Uchiha Madara."

"Yes, Hiashi-san." Neji bowed as he rose from his seat. "May I be excused, then? This errand may take some time."

"Yes, of course." Hiashi waved a hand. "Go."

Neji rose and swept out of the room into the blissful air-conditioned comfort of the elevator, going back down to his floor. He could feel sweat beading up again, sliding down his back, but ignored it. There were other things to attend to beforehand.

He packed a briefcase with what he thought he might need and changed his shirt, discarding the sweaty shirt and putting on a clean one after patting his torso dry. It was a good thing he had such a large wardrobe, he thought as he descended in the elevator; in his line of work he changed far too often.

Once at the ground floor, he went to the valet's desk and had his car brought up. Taking the limo, with the Hyuuga flag and the bright gold sun on the doors, would cause too much of a stir. His car, a Lexus SC 430, was more practical. While he waited he called Tenten and assured her he would be accompanying them to Club One-Nine that night. Best he go out once out of every month, so they wouldn't accuse of becoming a real hermit. They didn't understand why he hadn't gone to university too; he'd gotten the best grades in the class, and schools had been clamoring to get him to attend. They didn't understand the familial obligation he had.

His car was brought up and he got in, pulling out into traffic. The drive to the place he was heading would be at least twenty minutes, and that was provided traffic was decent all the way there, which it never was. The city was always backed up in Konoha district, the most populous, prosperous of the six major areas of the city. The district head, Tsunade, was the granddaughter of the man who had made the district what it was now. She was much respected throughout the rest of the city, and her name held a lot of weight in the right circles.

It was to one of these circles that Neji was headed, as he got on one of the main thoroughfares and headed east. The man he was going to see had been an old childhood friend of Tsunade. Neji hoped the fact that he often dealt with the blond politician and knew she spoke highly of him elsewhere would give him an in with this man. Jiraiya was known to be a good man, either way, even if his penchant for women was far to noticeable to the authorities. He was lucky they didn't care.

Jiraiya ran a prostitution ring that operated out of brothels across the city; at least one in every main district. He catered to customers with deep pockets, and his employ was one of the biggest draws from the same training Neji had undertaken. Once, he had been legit, as had his friend Tsunade (who still mostly was), and Orochimaru (who mostly was _not_). Now, it wasn't so, but he maintained his clear conscience by giving a good portion of his untaxed income to education programs and scholarships in the arts and humanities. His headquarters, while not as impressive as the Uchiha or Hyuuga towers, fit the man who lived in it. And he was, as Neji had thought, glad to see him.

"How are you, my boy?" Jiraiya greeted, slapping Neji on the back. "Still working for your uncle?"

"Family business. Blood is thicker than water, Jiraiya-san."

"Bah, he wastes your talent, but I'm sure you hear that enough. Can I get you something to drink? Tea, or maybe something stronger?"

"No, thank you, Jiraiya-san." Neji sat on one of the man couches scattered about the man's main office. Several buxom women, the oldest no more than 19, lounged on others. Neji tried not to stare. "I have a question for you, if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind. But it won't be free, no matter how highly Tsunade-hime thinks of you."

"I did not expect it to be." Neji smiled thinly and slid a check onto the low table before him. "Is that a sufficient amount? If not, I am sure we can negotiate otherwise."

Jiraiya checked the number of zeros at the end and nodded. "What did you want to know?"

"Uchiha Madara is back in town."

Never before had the young Hyuuga seen Jiraiya blanch. "Is he, now…"

"You didn't know?"

"I had heard rumors, but…"

"He arrived the day before yesterday, and apparently is proposing a merger between Uchiha and Hyuuga."

"Now, that's funny… why would he want to…" Jiraiya looked pensive, brow furrowed. "That man looks to himself and his family…such a union would benefit them more."

"Precisely. Hyuuga does not wish to be screwed."

"If you accept the proposal, you will be."

"We plan to reject."

"Good, because he'll suck you dry, and elevate Uchiha. But it makes no sense…" Jiraiya looked at Neji. "Madara left as CEO over forty years ago."

"Why?"

"His business practices were becoming to radical even for the rest of his family. He resigned and left, taking a good part of the Uchiha funds with him."

"And now he's back, and proposing a merger. Do you think he's run out of money?"

"Maybe. But I knew him of old… Madara's too wily with his money, he probably squirreled it away in a dozen accounts so nobody can find it but himself. No, he's not doing it for the money." Jiraiya shook his head. "What did he ask from Hyuuga? Why would Hyuuga care so much if they can just reject his offer anyway?"

"He asked for…" Neji swallowed. "Something we will not give him."

"You can't tell me." Jiraiya shrugged. Secrets were common here. "And I can't tell you much more. But I'll be in touch if I hear anything, and get you a written copy. I know how your uncle hates purely oral reports. He likes a paper trail."

"Hyuuga is always in your debt, Jiraiya-san."

"And yet you always pay me so well. Thanks, kid, I'll see what I can come up with for you. Won't you stay awhile, though? You need to unwind…"

Seeing by the glint in Jiraiya's eye what it was that he meant, and resisting all other attempts to foist a girl onto him, Neji bowed and left the villa, getting back into his car with more questions than he had answers, and he still had an hour before Hinata's school let out. Sighing, he put the car in gear and drove off, without a destination in mind, to think.

* * *

Hinata sat in the library; her last period she had free, and sat in the library to do homework until school let out. Oh, she could have gone home or gone out like many of the other girls did, but she was on a university track, and hoped to attend a nursing school. Her father would probably not approve, but if she could just work up the courage and pitch it to him the right way…

She sighed. Sometimes, she wished she was more like her cousin, so strong and proud despite his adversities, or her younger sister, Hanabi, who was headstrong and the top of her class. Hanabi had more of the spoiled brat in her, though, which was how she got her way so much. Hinata had more of her mother in her, and like her mother, was growing up into a quiet, strong woman.

The sun coming through the window beside her made her turn, letting it warm her face. The library was cool, air-conditioned and dark, so she sat near the windows; maybe it was something given to her in her name, her love of the sun and warmth. Maybe it was that most of her days were spent inside, where it was cool and climate-controlled and restrained. The sun was something no man or woman could harness, break to their will.

Running a hand through her hair, Hinata stared across the small, irregular grassy lawn that extended from the library's walls to the sidewalk that bordered the long curving driveway where those who were being picked up waited, and as she did so, caught sight of a man.

He was leaning against a sleek black car, and dressed all in black, too; except for his shirt, which was a deep blood-red. Somehow he looked cool despite the summer heat—and in that suit, and with the thick black hair he had, he had to be hot. Neji always complained about the heat, and sweated. She couldn't see his eyes—he wore dark wraparound sunglasses. His lapel and tie bore no company insignia. Hinata had no idea who he was.

He was playing with a single white flower—it wasn't a rose, she thought. The petal arrangement was too simple. Perhaps he was somebody's boyfriend, waiting to pick them up—but it seemed he was looking right at her. Perhaps he was, the windows the library weren't tinted, and he wasn't that far away. He could be—but why would he be? She didn't know him at all. Suddenly nervous, she began to fidget in her seat, twisting a lock of hair around her fingers. And then he smiled.

She froze, knowing he'd seen her then. Her fingers came out of her hair as she felt the blush creeping across her face, and quickly looked away. _Who…? _Looking back at the window, she gasped.

He was gone.

Without thinking, Hinata got up and ran outside, looking around to see where he'd gone. She thought she saw a black car turning the farthest corner, but she wasn't sure if it was his. Suddenly feeling exposed, Hinata wrapped her arms around herself, nervous again; what if he was one of her father's enemies, and he'd been trying to lure her outside so they could kidnap her? If she ever got rescued and not killed, her father would yell at her again.

But nobody jumped out to grab her, there was no sound of a gunshot. Just people slowly lining up to pick up their sons and daughters; or in the case of most people, nannies, guardians, bodyguards even. Shamed—what a fool she must have seemed!—Hinata looked down at her feet, and saw the flower he'd been playing with. Bending, she picked it up, twirling it in her fingers as he had been. It was a white camellia.

* * *

Neji drove up to the school as it was getting out, and as a result had to wait in the absurdly long line to get up to the circular drive. Hinata was waiting there, looking flustered as she got into the car and put her book bag behind the seat. He noticed she was holding onto a single white camellia.

"Who gave you that?" he asked.

"O-oh! Um, I don't know, it was stuck in my locker when I went to get some books earlier." Hinata was a deep shade of red, fidgeting with her fingers and the green stalk of the flower.

Neji grunted and pulled out of the driveway at last, speeding off toward the Hyuuga tower. He still had to get ready for his evening out.


	3. Chapter 3

Hinata stared at the camellia, which she had placed in a slender glass vase. Its petals were delicately formed, perfect; it had just bloomed when it had been cut. She had carefully arranged it with two palm fronds she'd taken from the landscaped balcony attached to her apartment. The whole thing sat in the middle of the little table in her dining room.

Again and again, her mind wandered to the man leaning against his car, smiling at her. He had been acting as though he knew her—he'd certainly known where she would be, so he knew her schedule—he'd even known her favorite flower. Leaning over, Hinata inhaled the scent and smiled. Well, whoever he was, he hadn't seemed to mean her any harm and he'd done nothing except fluster her badly; it was really sort of flattering.

Neji hadn't seemed to mind much either—but then again, he'd seemed distracted too. Her father probably had him doing more jobs again. Hinata hated how withdrawn her cousin became after them, but there really wasn't much she could do for him, no matter if she was Hiashi's daughter or not.

Sighing, Hinata left off staring at the mysterious flower and pulled out her books. She still had some homework left to do, and soon thoughts of the flower and its giver were far from her mind.

* * *

One floor down, Neji was fingering a shirt among the selection he'd laid out on his big bed and scowling. He hated clubs in general (the crush of people set off too man of his alarms) but was still consumed by the need to dress up and appear at least presentable to those around him who, it was very easy to assume, would not care. It was one of those deplorable habits you picked up when around others for far too long.

His phone rang—it was Lee, he noted with a sigh. "Hello, Lee."

"Neji! My youthful friend!"

He had to hold the phone away from his ear to prevent Lee from damaging his hearing. "What is it, Lee?"

"I am avidly looking forward to our wonderful outing tonight! I am picking you up at the Hyuuga tower in half an hour!"

"That will be fine, Lee—" Neji trailed off as he realized the sounds filtering through the phone weren't entirely due to the road. He had distinctly heard a cellphone go off, and someone who was not Tenten answer. "Lee, who else is with us?"

"Some friends!"

"Who?"

"Tenten is in the car with me, and so is Shino and Sakura. Naruto heard and loaded up his car with some of his friends as well!"

Neji's hand hit his forehead. Lee must have heard it because he said, "It will be a real night out! All of us together! Say, Neji do you think Hinata could join us?"

"My uncle wouldn't let her." Neji thought of Hiashi's reaction to the Uchiha proposal and then his potential reaction to Hinata if she asked to go out. "Overprotective Father Syndrome."

"That is too bad! But at least we no longer have to worry about Sakura's seat!" He began to wax poetic on the object of his affection, detailing her many virtues and accomplishments, and Neji put the phone down as he selected a shirt and put it on. It wasn't that he didn't care about his friend's happiness and relationships, but… it had been more than a year now since he'd had any relations with someone who wasn't a client of his uncle's. A full year of being the perfect Hyuuga prize, available for all the right prices. Neji did it out of familial duty, but it would have been easier if he wasn't so damn bitter.

"I really must go, Lee. I'll see you in a few minutes." He cut off Lee's exuberant goodbye and collected his things. Wallet, keycard, cell phone, all slid into pocket in his clothing. A leather jacket completed the look, and making sure his door was locked, Neji thumbed the button for the ground floor, watching the cityscape darken against the brilliant colors of the sunset. Lights came on, golden against the black shapes of the skyscrapers. They only made the darkness darker.

The doors opened and Neji stepped out into the entry hall. It was mostly deserted at this late hour, except for some employees heading toward the parking garage and Kiba standing just inside the doors. He grinned toothily when he saw Neji coming. "You going too?" he asked.

"Yes. Apparently there are multiple cars now."

"I know, man, I heard." Kiba jigged a bit in place, excited. "I'm gonna be in Naruto's car though. Lee said his was full."

Neji forced a smile. "Wonderful." Luckily, Kiba didn't notice the quality of the Hyuuga's expression.

"Yeah, it'll be great. Someone's rented out one of the private lounges too."

Neji cocked an eyebrow and was about to ask the occasion when Kiba bounded away, and he realized the cars had arrived. With some trepidation, he followed, noting the alarming amount of people moving around between cars. With himself included, there would be five in Lee's Yaris, and Naruto's (brand-new) Honda Civic, sat five—and there appeared to be at least six people getting back in after Kiba had had choice seating.

He sighed, and climbed into the backseat of the Yaris. Tenten was on one side of him, Shino on the other, both too close for his own liking and both trying to make it seem like their wandering hands were completely accidental. Sakura and Lee were up front, playing some horrendous eighties-sounding music at full volume. Neji watched as her hand rested on her boyfriend's leg, and thought of the firm, milk-white skin that covered thighs, resting by his head as he bobbed over…

He couldn't escape it.

The club, when they paid the obnoxious cover charge and got inside, was no better than the cars. In a great amorphous group they arrived, Naruto and Lee leading the way into the crowd of people wearing too-short skirts and ripped mesh tops. It really wasn't Neji's scene at all, but out of a sense of obligation he went out with them to these places, a new one every time, and endured it.

Tenten appeared before him as he left the coat check counter, slipping the claim tag into a pocket. "Dance with me!" she shouted over the music. Knowing he'd never get out without doing so, Neji nodded his head, and was dragged downstairs to the dance floor. Once in place, he only halfhearted participated, letting Tenten rub herself all over his front while Kiba ground against his ass, hands reaching around to encircle him and rest low on Tenten's hips.

Three hours later, he was still unimpressed and discontent; the occasion for the rental of the private lounge had been, apparently, the birthday of some school friend of Naruto's. Neji hadn't bothered going up. He'd head the word 'stripper' used too many times.

So instead he was at the bar, slowly working his way toward the limit of alcoholic drinks the tender here would serve to minors. The alcohol did little either, though Neji suspected that was due to his lack of caring if it actually did. Once he stood up and having a sense of balance that worked mattered, the alcohol would hit him. All it did now was provide a pleasant buzz in the back of his mind, and fill his bladder, which thought reminded him that his own wanted to be emptied soon.

Sliding off the stool, Neji furrowed his brow and got everything situated before he made his way toward the bathrooms, across the dance floor. The club was by now crowded with those of the age set the establishment catered to, barely legal (and underage) schoolchildren with too much money bumping ass with men and women who had graduated university. He could smell the hormones, and it awakened in him the same desire—to touch and be touched, to caress and join with bated breath. Even whores still longed for it, he thought as he struggled through a knot of dancers. But it was difficult to resist.

And it became impossible to resist when a club favorite came on; the dancers cheered, and even Neji had to stop and let the full, thick beats take him for a few moments. Only a few, he told himself firmly. He had to go to the bathroom.

Hands on him, a body against his. Automatically, Neji held to it—him, the arms his hands found purchase on were strong, the body he moved with definitely male. Without the inhibition he normally had, Neji began to dance. When he wanted to he was excellent at dancing, even this kind, which was more like sex with clothes on.

Hips pressed forward, hands sliding around this stranger's neck; he found a ponytail, and slipped his fingers up against the other's scalp. In the club's strobe lighting with the base cranked up so high he couldn't be sure, but he thought he'd felt a little sound of pleasure vibrate through his skin, and seen the other man's eyes close. When they opened again, the lighting made them appear a deep ruby, and he felt as though he was being swallowed by them. Under different circumstances and with less alcohol in him Neji would have been unnerved, but now—oh, now—

He grinned up at this man whose face he couldn't see, whose voice he couldn't hear. The alcohol took the sharp edges off of everything, for a brief time dulled the dissatisfaction he felt growing in his life. Such was the danger in it, and the danger in this unknown man's hands, plying heat sluggishly from his body unused to partaking in it. Gave, gave, gave and never took as freely as he took from this man. It was just the alcohol talking, Neji knew; but he didn't mind.

"Neji! Neji!"

He could barely hear his name over the music (it had changed, the beautiful woman's voice being replaced by some man's that grated Neji's ears) and ignored it anyway, until he was knocked away from the strange man by someone he assumed was Tenten, stumbled, and nearly fell.

"What?" he snapped.

"We're going. Naruto's—oh, let's just go!"

He sobered up quickly after that, but before leaving the scene looked around for the man he'd been dancing with; unable to see anything, he turned and pulled the claim check from his pocket, handing it to the man behind the counter and collecting his jacket. Neji found the rest of them there too, everyone seeming to be in a great hurry to get moving.

"What happened?" he asked. The buzz was starting to come back, and he caught himself on the edge of the counter before he could fall over. "Why--?"

"Naruto touched when he wasn't supposed to," Shikamaru moaned. "Dumbass. Now we're going to have trouble."

"Aw, shut up! I saw you reaching for a tit too!"

"But I didn't grab it."

Neji rubbed his temples and stepped outside. The air wasn't any cooler at all, turning humid and heavy. He found it hard to breathe, and longed for the air-conditioned refuge of his room.

In various states of inebriation, they made it back to the cars and piled in. Neji tolerated Tenten's drunken groping and gently peeled her off him when they reached the Hyuuga tower. It was lit up at night, a giant glowing spire that sought to defy gravity and the laws of nature itself. He hated it, but tottered inside all the same. The elevator ride up to his floor was excruciatingly long, and it took him a few tries to find the slot for his room key, but once he was inside and his clothes were off, he found the safety of his bed, and slept.

* * *

Itachi woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, and the desire to lay in bed until someone or something caused him to get out of it. He lay there for fifteen minutes, habit fighting a war against comfort; eventually habit won out, and he slid out of the bed and padded to the bathroom (he could feel each footfall in his head, it was that bad). Washing his face made Itachi feel a little better, and selecting the strongest painkiller he had, Itachi dry-swallowed two pills and leaned on the sink, waiting for them to kick in.

He shouldn't have been drinking last night at all—he'd been driving his idiot brother to that party at One-Nine last night. Sasuke had been about to pile people into the car, when Itachi reminded him coldly that his Spyder was a two-seater and was thus impractical for people-hauling. His younger brother had been inordinately displeased, which had made Itachi sigh softly in exasperation; Sasuke had ridden with him enough times, he ought to have known.

Running a hand through his hair, Itachi stalked into his room and collected the clothes he'd left laying around the room in his desire to get into bed. He enjoyed dancing, the crush of bodies and the scent of arousal and excitement that rose above the crowd, reminded him he was still human despite his family's particulars and the numerous skeletons in the Uchiha closet. Some of those skeletons were his doing. Those especially, he sought to forget.

A scent, a man's cologne, wafted up off his shirt as he tossed it away toward the hamper, and Itachi recalled it had been all over that beautiful man with the vibrant grey eyes last night. He'd been drunk and moving past him, and Itachi had taken the initiative and pulled him over, dancing without thought to movement and form, enjoying the freedom of movement that dancing brought, and Itachi had watched the long hair sway in the light and pale skin grow vibrant and warm under his fingertips, and let himself be hypnotized for a few minutes. It was probably good he didn't have a name or face. He didn't like remembering such things in general, he decided as he got into the shower and scrubbed himself off. It only complicated things.

The night had been mostly a disaster, anyway; for a bit, Itachi had accompanied Sasuke in the private lounge his friends had bought out for the night. It was the stereotypical affair; scantily-clad, barely legal teens lounging on overstuffed couches, snacking on tiny sandwiches and drinking, while hired dancers entertained them. When the dancers had begun removing what little clothing they had on, Itachi had gone downstairs, and that had been when he'd run into the man with the long brown hair.

Reaching into his closet and ignoring the protests of his head, Itachi selected a suit and got dressed. Madara and his father were expecting him upstairs.

It was infinitely disturbing how a man that Itachi remembered only as a name and a company photo on a wall could disappear and reappear at will. He'd overheard two underlings whispering that Madara hadn't been seen or heard from in a decade; letters were returned to sender, phone calls met a terse voicemail, or didn't go through at all. Whatever Madara had been doing, he'd wanted nobody to know of it, and had done an exceptional job at covering it up. That unsettled Itachi all the more now that the man was back and apparently taking an active role in the future of the company and its associated illegal dealings. And it was even more unsettling that Madara had seemingly taken him under his wing.

Sliding his keycard into a pocket, Itachi left his room and got in the elevator, going to the top floor, getting his thoughts in order. As expected, the moment he stepped out of the elevator, Madara had swept over from where he was advising (ordering) Fugaku on the distribution of certain products and greeted him.

"Itachi," he said, smiling warmly. It did not reach his eyes. "So glad to see you out of bed. We were beginning to wonder if you were quite all right. No, do not bow," An arm extended over his shoulders. "Come, come. I would like your input on this…"

He spent the next hour like that, discussing things with his ever gruffer father and a Madara who did not seem to care, or at least did not notice. Every change Madara made pushed the company toward another direction, gave it more power over the holding companies, and absorbed more of the smaller companies that had held alliances with them. Fugaku's jaw clenched every time that was proposed (and of course, moved along), and Itachi wondered why his father didn't protest. It was obvious Madara was consolidating Uchiha's power and wealth, but for what purpose?

And then there was the matter of the Hyuuga…

When he excused himself for a cup of tea, Itachi looked out the big windows toward the Hyuuga tower. The glass upper floor gleamed golden as the sun that the Hyuuga made their insignia. Madara was adamant that even if the Hyuuga refused, they should still press on. His eyes had taken on a kind of manic light at that, one that at once attracted and filled Itachi with such a dread as he had never before experienced. He hadn't let any of it on, of course; to show weakness in this family was to sign your own death warrant, especially with the head of the family finally in attendance.

One of his cousins stepped out into the main room. Itachi looked over at the same time that his uncle and father did. The underling shook a bit as he bowed low.

"Hyuuga Neji," he said, voice quivering, "He is here to see you, sirs."

Madara's eyes glittered. "Send Sasuke to get him."

"Sasuke is with his teacher, sir," the cousin said. "At Hebi."

"Itachi, then." Madara looked at him. "Go escort our guest up."

Wordlessly, Itachi bowed his head and got into the elevator with his much-relieved cousin. He had a bad feeling about this.

* * *

Standing in the posh sitting room he'd been escorted to, Neji adjusted the collar of his kimono slightly, pulling the nagajuban away from the skin underneath. It was another ridiculously hot day, and the fact he had been sent out in full formal dress did not help anything. At least it was white, a brilliant white silk with golden birds embroidered on it and a silver obi, and not a heavy black. In his hand, in a fine linen envelope addressed in his uncle's hand to Uchiha Madara and Uchiha Fugaku, was the polite (if more than slightly chilly) rejection of the offer they had made.

The underling that had shown him into the room returned, and behind him a man who had to be related to the main line of the Uchiha family; whereas those who were more peripherally related had lighter hair, different complexions, and a greater variety of eye coloration, those related directly to the main line had the Uchiha 'look'. And if there could have been a model for them, this man would have been it, down to the intense, dark eyes. In the glow from the attractive, recessed lights, Itachi's eyes reflected the crimson accent wall.

"Hyuuga Neji," he said, holding out a hand. "I am Uchiha Itachi. Let me escort you up to the top floor."

Nodding, Neji followed him out of the room and across the main entryway, a big, airy space bustling with people, to the elevators. The wait for one to come down from the upper floors was filled with an excruciatingly polite silence. Neither of them looked at each other. Neji calculated it and concluded it would be a very long ride up to the top. He remained silent.

Itachi was silent for another reason entirely. It was the eyes, he thought, that had (unfortunately) helped him remember. Now he had not only a face, but a name to go with the body. Even dressed differently, even sober, he would not have overlooked those eyes anywhere.

Things had just gotten much more complicated.

* * *

Neji swept into the top floor ahead of Itachi and bowed only slightly, and certainly not as deep as Itachi did. The man sitting in front of him—lounging was a better word for it, he thought. Uchiha Madara lounged in the cushioned office chair, jet-black hair loose around his shoulders, eyes boring into Neji's. He had an indulgent smile on his face, like this was all just a formality, that Neji took an instant dislike to.

"Hyuuga Neji," he said. His voice was deep, holding an affability that Neji did not trust for a second. "I see you bring for me an answer from your uncle regarding a certain matter."

"I do." Neji tilted his chin up and walked forward, holding out the envelope. Madara took it but did not open it. "Hyuuga is honored that you made the offer, but cannot accept. We find the terms unsuitable to the request made, and the compensation inadequate."

Madara kept the smile, but Neji sensed something behind it, as though Madara were holding a great anger in check. His escort seemed to tense; he must have seen it too, that brief flicker of rage in the man's eyes. Uchiha Fugaku, the CEO, sat unmoving beside Madara. He looked to be made of stone, and equally as expressive.

"That is dark news," he said. "Will Hyuuga not reconsider? Uchiha will be glad to give whatever compensation is necessary."

"I doubt it."

"Very well then." Madara said it as though it would be the end, but there was again that glint in the man's eye. Neji knew this was far from over. "Uchiha appreciates Hyuuga's candor and prompt response. Thank you."

Neji bowed his head again, turned, and left. Itachi followed him. When they were in the elevator, he let out the breath he'd been holding the entire time.

"He is angry," he murmured. Itachi shifted beside him.

"Wrathful."

"Is he always so disconcertingly friendly?"

"Yes. It is how he lays his traps."

"I see…" Neji was silent a moment longer. Then: "Itachi-san."

"Yes?"

"I would appreciate it if you kept the matter of my drunken grinding last night between the two of us."

Completely deadpan, Itachi replied, "I will never breathe a word of it as long as I live."

"You have my thanks."

The elevator doors pinged open, and Neji swept out. Itachi stayed in the elevator, out of habit scanning his card and pressing the button for the top floor again. He watched the figure in white until the doors closed.

* * *

In the limo, Neji sat back against the leather seat and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. How he had known it was Itachi he had no idea; but everything he remembered was right, down to the red hue of his eyes. And it was amazing he remembered that much; the rest of the night was a blur to his mind.

Maybe it was the music; he did like that mix of Silence. Neji was more inclined to think of it as coincidence that he should run into the object of his drunken attraction, even though Neji did not believe in coincidence and preferred to think of it as fate.

As the limo pulled away and the Uchiha tower was left behind, Neji stared at his reflection in the tinted windows, lost in thought.

* * *

"Damn Hiashi!"

Fugaku leaned against the desk, watching Madara stride about, fists clenched and face screwed up in rage. His father had told him of the strength of Madara's anger, and he had resolved to stay out of the way should the man ever go into a fit. It was paying off now; letting Madara rant himself out was apparently the best approach. Across the room, Itachi was seated in a chair, carefully expressionless. He almost appeared to be zoned out, not paying attention at all. Fugaku sighed inwardly.

At last, Madara seemed to have finished, and took a deep breath. As he let it out, all the rage, everything was clamped down, drawn in, and once more the cool Uchiha leader stood before him. It was an infinitely frightening sight.

Madara grabbed his car keys out of a pocket and strode toward the elevators; Itachi sprung up.

"Is there—"

"I am going out, Fugaku, Itachi; I expect I shall be back soon enough. Dinner will be at seven o'clock." And he was gone.

* * *

She could have stayed in her room, but as Hinata left the Hyuuga tower, having watched her cousin go off somewhere in full formal (she knew he hated it, so it must have been an errand from her father), she was glad to get out. Some days, she felt like a hermit, or a princess, shut up in her ivory tower.

So, dressed in jeans and a tank top, she went out with the intention of getting coffee from a little shop down the street. Her father would have blown a gasket if he'd known that she was going out without a bodyguard to go with her, but she'd only be a few minutes, and the Hyuuga so controlled this part of the district that it was practically safe. With a book in hand, she made her way down the street; it was a hot day, and Hinata was glad she'd pulled her hair up. Neji would die in that hot, heavy kimono.

The café owners knew her and tried, as always, to get her to take the coffee free. She always insisted in paying them, smiling shyly and saying it wasn't fair to the others in the shop if she did not. She tipped too, which by the always-depleted look of the tips jar was more than other patrons of the place did.

(Hinata had no way of knowing that the workers saw her coming and always emptied the tip jar. They played to her generous, kind nature, and profited from it. Even if she'd known, she probably still would have tipped. It was the right thing to do.)

Taking her drink and book, she went to one of the cushioned chairs by the window and slipped her feet out of her sandals, tucking them up under her with the drink on a little end table beside her as she read. Completely absorbed in her book, she didn't notice the comings and goings of others until the person, who stood outside the glass watching her, tapped it with a knuckle.

Startled, Hinata dropped her book, blushed and picked it up, looked at the man, and dropped it again.

"You…" she whispered, even though he couldn't hear her. Her thoughts must have been clear to him, however, because he smiled and raised an eyebrow. It was the man she'd seen at her school. She made a little motion—come in, come here—and he did so, coming inside and weaving his way through the tables to sit opposite her. Once he did, Hinata found herself unable to do little more than squeak.

"Hello," he said, smiling again as she flushed _again_. "I saw you reading, and thought I should stop and greet you."

Hinata found her voice. "W-who are you?" she stammered out. He was definitely the same man, but now without his sunglasses she could see his eyes were a dark, steely grey-black. "How d-do you know m-me?"

"I know you well," the man said. "I saw you at your school once, and noted that you were a Hyuuga—it's hard to miss those beautiful eyes of yours." He grinned down into his lap, a little sheepish. "I was passing by and saw you in the window, and—well, I do apologize for being so creepy and standing there, but it was difficult for me to work up the courage, you see."

As he smiled at her, Hinata felt the blush creeping across her entire face. She was quiet, but she found quickly that he was a good conversationalist, and lost herself in their talks.


	4. Chapter 4

Sasuke pulled the tanto out of the man's chest and glared round at his lackeys, who were by now on the floor with their foreheads touching it, abasing themselves before him. As always, Sasuke felt a rush of power. It was heady, knowing he could bring such men to their knees.

Behind him, a shifting of clothing, and Orochimaru stepped away from the wall where Sasuke had pushed him. There was a pleased expression on his face as he looked at the boss slowly bleeding out on the tatami mats.

"Excellent work, Sasuke," he said, fingertips gently brushing some hair back from the young Uchiha's face. "Most excellent indeed."

"We beg forgiveness," one of the men on the floor said. "We will serve you completely."

"Completely?" Orochimaru breathed, looking down at them as though they were scum on his shoe. "How can I trust your word? One of you just tried to assassinate me."

One of the men rose, holding his hand out to Sasuke. "Give me the tanto," he said. Seeing the expressions on their faces, he bowed his head. "Sasuke-sama, please."

Walking a little closer to the man, Sasuke held the blade out to him; even held it steady when to his surprise the man reached up and sliced his palm open, holding it toward them. "We swear on blood."

In turn, each of the men got on their knees, letting Sasuke slash their palms and repeating the words the first had said. _We swear on blood, we swear on blood_. Sasuke was drunk on the power, eyes full of a malice that was an echo of his teacher's, but he was still in control. When they had sword to him that they would be loyal and had been bled, Orochimaru smirked, watching Sasuke clean his tanto with something almost like regret and put it away. "A rather noble thing to do, don't you think, Sasuke-kun?" The older man felt a surge of pride; he was shaping this boy well. "To give yourselves to my _mercy_ even though your own leader attempted to kill me."

By the time he had finished speaking, Sasuke was already sheathing his sword; there was but a thin splatter of blood on his cheek. The men all slumped to the ground, dead.

"Excellent," he purred, leaning over Sasuke and licking the blood away with a single swipe of his tongue. He felt Sasuke shiver under the attention and stroked his hair. "You've done well tonight, Sasuke-kun."

"They were nothing." The Uchiha was coming back to himself, the bloodlust slowly clearing from his eyes. Orochimaru sighed, and pulled away. It would not be this night, then, but some other night. He had a particular fantasy of fucking the young man senseless while the bodies of their enemies cooled around them…

Orochimaru raised a hand and snapped his fingers, and staff melted from mthe shadows, moving to clean up the bodies and replace the ruined tatami. They were paid well for this kidn of thing, those who worked the shifts when Orochimaru received visitors. The man had many enemies, and no need for janitors with loose lips, but he employed those who would otherwise not have the job, and thus secured their loyalty.

Sasuke stepped delicately around the bloodstains, hem of his kimono lifted up to avoid staining it. Together with his teacher, he got into the elevator and thumbed the button for the top. There were cleaning kits in Orochimaru's desk, and he wanted to make sure the blood didn't rust his blades.

In the confined space, he could feel the question in his teacher's mind and shifted. Orochimaru would voice it when he wanted to and not a moment before, but Sasuke hated dragging things out.

Finally: "How is your dear uncle?"

What a loaded question. "He is fine," Sasuke answered ambiguously, thinking back to the last time he'd run into his uncle. After going home and making the appropriate noises of greeting and admiration (he'd been shamed inside at how his entire family seemed to abase themselves at this man's feet, and only had seen an echo of it in his brother's set jaw), he'd dragged Itachi out to a club with him and some of his friends, and hadn't seen Madara until the next afternoon. He was coming in from some outing; his Lamborghini Superleggera was still parked outside, the valets ogling it, and he was holding a latte in one hand.

_Hello, Sasuke-kun,_ he'd said, looking far too smug. It had sent ice water down Sasuke's back, but he'd masked that and bowed low, although exposing his neck made him tense up.

_Hello, Uncle Madara. How are you?_

_I'm just fine, Sasuke-kun. Are you going to see your teacher?_

_Yes, I am._

_Orochimaru is an intelligent man. Learn all you can from him, and…_ Madara had smirked. _…don't be afraid to take risks with him. Only by that can you gain all that you are deserving of as an Uchiha._

_Yes, Uncle Madara. _Sasuke had remained with his face toward the floor until he felt Madara sweep past him. There had been the scent of camellias around him, mixed in with the normal aroma of a café.

"You know what I meant by the question, Sasuke-kun."

Sasuke's eyes bored into the wood paneling of the elevator. "He wants to unite Hyuuga and Uchiha through a marriage; one of the terms is that Hyuuga and Uchiha will merge into Uchiha-Hyuuga, Inc., and he will be the head of both."

"A marriage…? Merger with Hyuuga?" Sasuke saw his teacher's brow furrow in thought. "Why now…?"

Sasuke bit his lip. He'd been shooed out of the room by that point, and it was precisely because of his apprenticeship to Orochimaru that he had been. Madara had not trusted his own family members to keep their mouths shut, but then again, that was what had made him so successful when Uchiha was just starting out. Madara trusted nobody and kept everything for himself.

"Hiashi has two daughters. Which one is it, and who does Madara plan to marry?"

"Hinata, the older daughter. She is Hiashi's heir, and by marrying her Madara will secure his place at the head of the Hyuuga family as well. Hanabi is too young and already too bloodthirsty to ever be head."

Orochimaru was silent until they reached the top floor. It was not a comfortable silence; Sasuke would have fidgeted if the habit hadn't been bred out of him. As it was, when they reached the top floor and Sasuke got one of the kits out of the desk and began cleaning his sword of any flecks of blood, his movements were noticeably nervous.

"Why now?"

Sasuke looked up at the repeated question. Orochimaru was sitting in the leather chair, the weak and watery moon filtering through the glass windows behind him. "Hm?"

"Madara left Uchiha in disgrace forty years ago… everyone presumed him dead, despite the occasional reports of appearances in public. He'd been getting too power-hungry, you see, Sasuke-kun, too greedy; he wanted not only the CEO position of Uchiha, his holding of which was increasingly angering members of your family, but the position of city mayor as well. In the wake of his rejection a gang war between those Uchiha still loyal to him and those in the employ of the members of the city government broke out, which resulted in Madara leaving Uchiha."

"And now he's back."

"Yes, and he wants to merge with the company that controlled the city government at the time. Revenge is surely a factor, but…" Orochimaru chewed his thumb thoughtfully. "Madara is not that simple a man. But I cannot think what other motive he would have to want a merger between your family and Hyuuga so badly." Amber eyes stared off into space a moment longer before flicking over to Sasuke, who had moved on to cleaning his tanto. "See what you can find out. Copy documents if you can."

"Yes, Orochimaru-sensei."

The older man smirked. "Good boy. You will, of course, be rewarded."

"Thank you." Sasuke put his blades away and packed up the cleaning kit. "I'm going to go study downstairs."

Orochimaru watched him go, a smirk on his face. That boy would prove very useful to him in all this.

* * *

Hinata never hoped to see her father mad; Hiashi would never touch a hand to one of his daughters, but his temper and voice would rage out of control, and leave Hinata cowering in front of him. That annoyed him more, and so on and so forth until something got his attention away from her. She didn't understand why such a little thing was such a big deal either; she went to the coffee shop down the street all the time, unaccompanied, and he'd never had a problem with it before.

But when she'd come in the other day, flushed and clutching her book, he'd confronted her in her apartment. He'd been so angry that she'd gone out without Neji or even one of the guards; he'd told her there were people lurking out there who would kidnap her and use her and kill her, and then where would Hyuuga be, she was the heir…

As he'd gone on, Hinata had noticed that Hiashi was not so much angry as he was extremely afraid, and that worried her. Her father was a strong man, a capable leader; the family loved him with good reason. And now he was frightened—terrified of something, and she was sure that it had to do with her. So she'd held in the trembling and the crying until after Hiashi had left. That had mollified him somewhat, she'd noticed. After his rage had spun itself out, he unexpectedly took her into a tight hug. She could feel him trembling. That more than anything had shaken Hinata.

Her phone rang and, curious, she picked it up off the end table where it was and smiled a bit when she saw the number. "Hello?"

_Hinata?_

"Madara-san, hi…" even though they were on the phone, one glance in the mirror told Hinata that she was bright red. "It's a little early to be calling, I was just getting ready for school…"

_Oh! I do apologize. I just wanted to wish you good luck on the history exam you have today. I remember you mentioning you were rather worried about it._

"Th-thank you." Hinata blushed, fidgeting with the top of one of her white socks. "I've b-been studying all weekend, I-I think I should d-do fine."

_I am quite certain you will. Have a little confidence in yourself._

She chewed her lip, quiet a moment_._

_Hello? Hinata, are you still there?_

"Yes, sorry. I was just getting my school things together…" she pushed books around the table, although all the ones she'd need for the day were packed into her bag already.

_I shan't keep you any longer. I'm sure you have to leave soon…_

"Yes, my cousin's going to take me."

_Neji, right?_

"Yes."

_Excellent. Shall I see you later? At that little café, perhaps?_

"U-um…" Hinata bit her lip again, disappointed. "My father won't let me. He says it's too dangerous."

_Well, I would protect you, Hinata._ That charming, deep laugh she remembered well. It gave her pleasant chills now, and turned the corners of her mouth up again. _I wouldn't let harm come to you._

"Thank you." Hinata smiled a bit. "I-I really should go…"

_All right. Goodbye, Hinata._

* * *

Madara flipped his phone shut and slid it into a pocket of his suit jacket, smirking a bit. It was a Monday; later on, he would go and see Hinata. He knew she had her suspicions—she'd been trusting to a point, the effect of her dear paranoid father, he knew, infuriating Hyuuga Hiashi. It wouldn't matter, soon enough.

"Is that letter ready yet?" he asked the young man who'd been set to the unhappy task of typing up a second proposal to the Hyuuga, for the merger and Hinata's hand. The pale-faced man (his pimples showing up as little volcanoes on his unhappy face, obviously _not_ from Madara's line) trembled.

"Almost, sir," he replied. "I will have it printed for you to sign in a minute."

"The hour grows late," Madara shot back. "I wish to have this sent off before we all become fossils. Hurry up."

The man said nothing, but the tapping of keys increased in pace, and at last he was handing the copy to Madara. The older man read it over, nodded approval, and signed his name in a flourish before folding it into a fine envelope. The front bore the sun crest of the Hyuuga; the letter was sealed with a drop of red wax over which was the uchiwa of his family.

"Itachi," he called softly, smirking. "I have an errand for you."

* * *

Sitting in the limo going across town to the Hyuuga tower, Itachi glared at the little envelope sitting on the pull-out desk next to him. It was this letter, this _obsession_ of Madara's that had gotten him tied into the stifling formal kimono (it was _black_ silk, in the middle of summer) and had him toting around the red-and-white uchiwa that all of his family were required to carry with them. And all for some chit of a girl…

It wasn't the ages-old enmity between the two families; Itachi had always been dispassionate about that, even as a child. It seemed ineffectual, a relic of another age to him. Of course, there were more important things to worry about...

The limo pulled up in front of the Hyuuga tower and Itachi climbed out gracefully, fan in one hand and letter tucked into a hidden pocket. His whole demeanor had changed; he was now proud, standing tall as he walked, every inch the hope of the Uchiha he was said to be.

(Among the older members of the family it was whispered that he was a throwback to the Beginning, demeanor, appearance, and intelligence all echoes of the first Uchiha who consolidated street gangs into a more powerful group. But that was all talk from those who occupied that level in the Uchiha residence floors, and nobody sat to hear their shaking voices anymore.)

"I am here to see Hyuuga Hiashi."

The receptionist glanced at someone who had to be a security guard, a young man with wild-looking eyes and hair that Itachi remembered seeing at the club. He nodded.

"Our head of security will show you to a waiting room. When Hiashi-sama is ready to see you he will send someone."

"It is a matter of utmost importance."

The receptionist, a pretty blonde, smiled at him. "I'm sure, Uchiha-san, but you must understand that things are done differently here."

The wild-haired teen was at his elbow, smiling and opening a door to the side. The waiting room, it turned out, had a stocked minibar; Itachi took some water, then sat. At least in here, it was cool.

* * *

At three, when Neji and Hinata returned, Kiba was at the doors. He looked nervous.

"You're both to go up to Hiashi-sama right away," he said. "Like, five minutes ago. Seriously."

Frowning, Neji put a hand on Hinata's back and escorted her to the elevator. As they waited for it to reach them, Neji looked around and happened to see the limo waiting outside; the flag on the antenna bore a red and white uchiwa on a blue field.

_Shit_.

Neji said nothing though, listening to Hinata's nervous fidgeting in the elevator that, despite the glass, seemed constricting. There wasn't enough air; it was too hot. He couldn't breathe.

It only got worse when they reached the top floor; the glass room amplified the heat, drenching him in sweat. He could only imagine that the man in full kimono was half-wilted—and as they got closer, the man indeed appeared almost cool. A slight glistening on the scalp, that was all. Neji felt something flop over in his chest. It was the man from the club—Itachi?

"Neji. Hinata. Sit." Hiashi gestured to two chairs, angled toward his desk but also facing Itachi across a simple mahogany table. Another letter was open on the desk, he saw as they sat. "This is Uchiha Itachi. He will be the… liaison… between Uchiha and Hyuuga as we undergo negotiations." Neither of them looked happy about it.

"Negotiations?" Hinata asked, looking curiously at her father. He was upset, rage settled like thunderclouds on his brow.

Hiashi cleared his throat, apparently trying to find words appropriate for the situation. He did not want to embarrass himself in front of Uchiha, that much was certain, but also had no bearing on Itachi's character.

"For a merger of Hyuuga and Uchiha Corporations," he said, voice shaking a bit with suppressed anger. "And a marriage."

"A marriage?" Neji asked, even though things had already come together in his mind. He hoped he was wrong, but by the expression on his uncle's face, he was, unfortunately, correct. One hand came up to rub at the manji, hidden beneath the strip of black cloth tied around his head.

"Hinata," he said softly. "The Uchiha want one of their own to marry you, Hinata."

* * *

Itachi's things were taken up to one of the guest suites; as his assigned escort (the duty of guarding Hinata had been taken up by four other Hyuuga), Neji waited outside the bedroom while Itachi gratefully changed out of the heavy kimono.

"Devices of torture," he was muttering as he came out of the room. Neji smirked.

"You'd know all about that though, being an Uchiha."

Itachi's response was a glare in the mirror that was reflected back at the Hyuuga. "Perhaps. Though the so-noble Hyuuga are not above it, I am given to understand. Rumor has it that their preferred method is _branding._"

Neji's hand came up out and he rubbed the manji again, unknowingly. "At least we are not brutes," he said airily. "Hyuuga do their killing with _class._"

A derisive snort, but an approving smirk. "Class is but a loosely defined term, Hyuuga Neji-san, but the time we are expected back for dinner was not."

"Then lead the way." Neji made a gesture toward the door, and somewhat reluctantly, Itachi did as asked. He hated being in front of someone he did not trust, but this was common courtesy—he'd done the same in the Uchiha tower—and to refuse it would be an insult. The situation at hand did _not_ need to become more complicated with matters of filial honor.

Dinner was a muted affair, all flair and showing off of the Hyuuga's famed hospitality; there had to be ten courses, Itachi thought, all on pure-white china with the golden Hyuuga sun in the middle. It was, of course, delicious to match the presentation, and by the time the last plates were cleared away, he felt extremely content. Thus, he was much more charitable toward Hiashi's statement than he normally would have been.

"We shall begin talks tomorrow morning at nine. You will have three hours each day, the use of the wireless network in the building, and Neji will be your assistant should you need anything." Hiashi's grey eyes flicked to Neji. "Neji."

"I understand Hi—"

"No. I have a job for you tonight." Hiashi laid a manila folder on the tabletop, and as Itachi watched, Neji's face closed up and he took it. "As you have another duty to Itachi, I suggest you complete it in a timely manner."

"Yes, Hiashi-sama." Neji bowed his head, long hair falling around his face. Itachi, sitting next to him, could see the muscles of his jaw work slightly as he did so. "I understand." Scooping up the folder, Neji bowed too to Itachi. "I apologize." Then he left, the lines of his back tense.

Neji returned late that night, thanking the driver in a soft voice and walking quickly toward the elevator lobby. When he got there, though, he found the button already pushed and Itachi leaning against the wall, looking at him.

He wasn't in the mood for this. "Itachi-_san_, you should be asleep. It is late." He was irritated, he could feel that woman's mouth on him still and it had been one of the worst experiences of his life—

Itachi studied the Hyuuga, watching as he swept into the elevator once the doors opened. In the swirl of air as he passed by, Itachi could smell cologne and cigarette smoke, clinging to the suit Neji wore. "So it is true; the Hyuuga keep courtesans."

"That's the nice term for it," Neji said, angrily stabbing the button for his floor.

"Even the CEO's brother-son is one, and the best, they say."

"So they say." An annoyed flick of eyes up to Itachi's face.

"Why do you let yourself be used?"

Silence hung between them like a thick curtain, blocking everything but the shifting of Neji's clothing as he put his weight on one foot. When the elevator slowed and stopped at his floor, he looked back at Itachi. "I could ask you the same question, Itachi-san."

He slipped out, and the doors closed behind him.

* * *

_How are negotiations going, Itachi?_

It was afternoon; he had been here three days. Neji was on the couch, using the wireless hotspot to check his e-mail, or something. The Hyuuga had been taciturn since their meeting the first night, never saying more than was required, not speaking unless spoken to… it was aggravating, to Itachi, though why he did not entirely know.

Watching the younger man through the artfully arranged flowers on a low table, Itachi replied, "Slowly, Uncle Madara. Hiashi is particular, and does not want his daughter to be married to you."

_He will see reason soon enough._

Itachi somehow doubted that Hiashi was not seeing reason right now—if Hinata was his child, he wouldn't let her marry Madara either. "I am certain he will, Uncle Madara. Things are going smoothly otherwise; I will let you know if there are any further developments."

_Excellent. Goodbye, Itachi._


	5. Chapter 5

It was taking most of Itachi's considerable will not to go completely mad.

Almost a week since he'd arrived at the Hyuuga, and between his uncle's daily nagging and Hiashi's staunch unwillingness, he was unsure if he could maintain his cool façade much longer.

Madara was calling multiple times daily, wanting progress reports, telling him what to say, asking him detailed questions about Hiashi's responses. He refused to take Itachi's answers of _No, he did nothing, Uncle Madara,_ and relentlessly pursued any grain of doubt. Itachi simply was not used to such tenacity. Madara for his part was apparently visiting Hinata daily, slipping messages past her bodyguards at the school. If Hiashi found out, he would be livid, and whatever game Madara played with the girl would come to an end. Either way, Hinata was always coming home with a flower or some note from him, or giving her guards the slip and meeting him for lunches. Itachi would have been willing to lay a large amount of his funds on the idea that Madara was not showing her any of his true nature.

Then there was Neji, infuriating Neji. Ever since their encounter in the elevators after Neji had returned from meeting a client, he had been taciturn, doing as Itachi bid him in silence, without protest. He would be greeted each morning by Neji bringing him coffee and the paper on a tray, setting it on the wide table in the bedroom. Sometimes the Hyuuga would say a soft good morning, sometimes he wouldn't; but he never smelled another client on Neji again. Itachi knew he was being sent out, but the Hyuuga always took great pains to avoid Itachi after such visits.

They ate dinner together once a week. Hiashi was a good host, if chilly by reason of the goings-on around him. The famed hospitality of the Hyuuga was certainly no myth, as Itachi never went without something he required. If he hungered, he could simply send word down to the kitchen and have various culinary delights sent up to tempt him. Sometimes Neji would come up with lunch, either from the kitchen or some place nearby the tower.

Which was what he had done today; sandwiches wrapped in butcher paper, from a deli down the street, and sodas in paper cups. Neji had arranged them on plates as though they were delicacies, and placed one beside Itachi now as he wrote up a message to his father and uncle on his laptop. One of the drinks was set down too, and a linen napkin, and Neji retreated to the couch to eat his own sandwich without saying a single word. Itachi watched his back a moment; the long, coffee-colored hair was tied back today in a simple clip of tooled pewter, and fell past Neji's hips, perfectly straight and gleaming.

Finishing up the message, he sent it off and closed his laptop, tucking into the sandwich. It was just as delicious as anything made by the five-star chefs in the kitchens, even in its simplicity. Such innocuous things didn't belong here, in this place where the very body of the man sitting across the room was both a weapon and a prize to be sought after.

"You needn't stare."

Itachi looked up from deep contemplation of the layer of pickles on his sandwich to see the Hyuuga looking up at him, those disconcerting eyes angry. "I don't believe I was."

"You do." Neji put his sandwich down, looking at it as though disgusted. "I know you know when I get sent to clients."

Itachi shrugged, and went back to his sandwich. "Someone must be sure you return. Would your uncle not be livid if you did not?"

Neji snorted. "Truly, you know nothing of my family. And you could not, seeing as those you were born of are still alive."

Itachi thought of his mother, a beautiful and kind woman too early used and left to curate a domestic museum of Uchiha Fugaku's devise; and of his father, a man who was slowly being ground into the dirt under Madara's shoe.

And he thought of Sasuke, who was surely going to be caught in the middle of it all.

"Truly," he said, taking another bite and chewing fully before swallowing. "You know nothing of my family."

* * *

Sasuke had taken to slinking around the Uchiha Tower on the rare occasions he was there, anymore. Most of his time was now spent at Hebi, carrying out such tasks as Orochimaru asked of him and trying not to let the way his teacher's eyes lingered on him get too distracting. It was a task that he was finding difficult; Orochimaru's was by far not the only attention focused on him, but it was the attention he was around the most, and he would be a filthy liar if he tried to tell himself that it didn't affect him. It was distressing, as he usually could coldly brush off any attempts made at a pass, while still enjoying the full effect of the attention.

Even so, he could do without some attention… particularly that of the man currently striding toward him. Madara was clearly going out again—it was something he did a lot lately—as he was dressed casually, black jeans and a black leather jacket, sunglasses and keys in one hand. He smiled as he approached Sasuke, that colluding grin Sasuke had learned all on his own to loathe.

"Uncle Madara," he said, bowing politely.

"Sasuke-kun!" The man's rich tenor was the only indicator of his real age. Sasuke took a brief moment to reflect on the good points of being an Uchiha (one aged extremely well; even in his sixties, Madara could pass for thirty) that made those such as himself superior to everyone else (as Orochimaru was partially plastic and had floors of his building dedicated to finding the Elixir of Life). Sasuke hoped he was going to get off with that greeting, but he felt a hand on his shoulder. "No need to bow so to me, Sasuke-kun, you're making a spectacle. You and I should be more familiar."

"Yes, Uncle Madara." Sasuke rose, looking him in the eye. There was no telltale glitter of rage; clearly Madara was in a good mood today, or his errand had him in one.

"How are your studies going? Orochimaru keeping you on your toes?"

"Yes he is, Uncle Madara." No need to lie there. "I am learning much from him."

"In what areas, if I may ask?"

Sasuke could smirk here, too; he was the best at what he did, and Orochimaru had told him as much. "The art of making people disappear."

Madara laughed. "A useful skill indeed, and one I may require a demonstration of at some point in the future. I must be off, I have an appointment to keep… your father is coordinating a shipment, why don't you go help him with that?"

"Yes, Uncle Madara."

"Have a nice day, Sasuke-kun."

In the elevator, he allowed himself the shudder that he had to hold in when his great-uncle had laughed. Madara was pleased. Someone, somewhere, was going to be dead.

Sasuke found his father working on an incoming shipment, as Madara had said, and offered his help, which Fugaku accepted. They worked in silence; several times, Sasuke thought he saw Fugaku looking at him out of the corner of his eye, seeming to almost say something, and then turn back to the paperwork. He called Orochimaru and let him know that he had a family function to attend and would be at home tonight, and slipped the shoulder holster on, his Glock 22 and extra clips stashed away safely. Sasuke preferred the comfortable weight of his sword on his back, but knew that anyone that would be attacking them tonight would be doing so with bullets.

Sitting in the office waiting for everyone to be ready, Sasuke watched his father move about the desk nervously, fiddling with papers, password-locking everything—futilely, Sasuke had seen Madara on a few occasions sitting at his father's desk idly scrolling through documents. Reflecting on this, Sasuke realized his father almost certainly knew, and did nothing, because against a man like Madara, there was nothing to be done.

"Sasuke?"

Startled, he looked up at Fugaku, who was leaning on the desk looking at him oddly. "Yes, Father?"

Fugaku appeared to debate with himself intensely a moment, before sighing and straightening. "It's time to go." Sasuke fell wordlessly into step behind him.

* * *

_Hey, Neji?_

Checking to make sure that Itachi was deep in conversation with Hiashi, Neji rose from his seat and made his way to a far corner of the room not occupied by underlings who were attempting to appear as though they weren't listening to the Uchiha and the head of the family talk. "Jiraiya-san."

_I've found a few things for you. Want to come pick them up?_

Neji worded his response carefully; you never knew who was listening. "Certainly, I've been missing a few items, actually." Hiashi wouldn't mind him leaving; probably wouldn't even notice. Neither would Itachi.

_See you in a bit, then._

"Indeed. Goodbye."

On his way down to the lobby, Neji checked his voicemail; one from a client he'd had a few nights ago, wishing to set up another appointment in exchange for helping smuggle weapons into the city. At least it was one of the more pleasant clients; if he didn't handle it personally, he would send one of those ranked just below him as compensation. The transport man knew exactly where he fell in the spectrum of the family business, and Neji had only been the hook meant to keep him on the Hyuuga fishing line. The next voicemail was Hinata saying she was going to be tutoring someone at school and she'd be home after that, and she'd already gotten the go-ahead from her father so Neji wouldn't catch heat for it.

Neji shut his phone and strode out as soon as the doors had opened. His mood preceded him, and the valet had his Lexus out and purring in under a minute. Traffic was blissfully light today, and he sped across town, the stereo piping out classical piano and the air conditioner at full-blast. It was good to get time away from the family; Hiashi had been prowling around the tower more than usual as of late, and was more prone to lashing out. The burden of his thoughts weighed heavily on his mind, and grew with each passing day. Uchiha was known to be relentless in their pursuit of their goals, and this was no exception.

Pulling up in front of Jiraiya's mansion, Neji let the women escort him inside, taking him not to the office but to the spacious patio out back, where naked women cavorted about in the pool and Jiraiya himself lounged on a deck chair, hair bound back. He appeared at first glance to be asleep, but as Neji sat down on the deck chair next to him, he lifted the glasses and eyed Neji.

"The bearer of bad news returns," he said, and sat up. Another girl, a redhead this time, brought them both iced tea. She smiled winningly at Neji, who simply ignored her until she walked off. Jiraiya watched her go with an appraising eye.

"She's a new one," he explained, before reaching over to the table behind him (it was covered with empty glasses, bottles of sunscreen, and had a spectacularly thin laptop perched precariously on a corner) and pulling a very slender file folder out of the clutter. "Here's what we were able to find, and it'll cost you extra. My agents had to dig long and hard to come up with what little we did, and the expense…" He said nothing, but there was a look on his face that told Neji everything he needed to know. Jiraiya was still mostly legit because he couldn't handle losing those he employed to the risks of the information business.

Neji bowed his head. "I will see to it any sum of money—"

"Don't give it to me." Jiraiya tilted his chin. "The names, addresses and account numbers are on a piece of paper in there. That's where the money should go."

"How much?"

"Use your best judgment." The older man quickly shifted gears, the usual grin making its way back onto his face. "Want to know what we found?"

"Certainly. It'll help me to know before I present it to Hiashi-sama."

Jiraiya's expression was exceedingly smug, and Neji knew that for all the cost it had been to the man, he was quite pleased. "Well like I said, it took a huge amount of digging to uncover, but we traced Madara back to where he'd been a few years ago."

Neji arched a brow. "Not even the Uchiha knew his whereabouts, for almost a decade, they say." Itachi had mentioned it once, when they'd had one of their rare and strained conversations. "How could you find out what his own family could not?"

"I'm not his family. Looks like whatever he was up to, Madara was most concerned about his family finding out. Oh, he buttoned everything up tightly to everyone else, but the most misinformation was left for his family to puzzle over." Clearing his throat, Jiraiya took a sip of the tea and continued.

"We followed his backtrail halfway across the world, Neji. He's been investing his money wisely, apparently, because he had enough to spare to buy automatic weapons to outfit a small army with; not only that, but he bought much of the same support technology too; top of the line, of course, he seems to have spared no expense. He also hired an architect from Iwa District, and bought land nearby the Iwa Hub."

"So that's it?" Neji asked, after a few minutes of staring blankly at Jiraiya waiting for the other shoe to drop. "He's been buying weapons and weapons-support tech, and he bought land in Iwa?"

"The network monitoring reports haven't come back in yet. Mistletoe's servers were down…" Jiraiya shifted. Neji sighed; he could appreciate a cautious man, given who it seemed they were dealing with.

"Will I have the reports on that?"

"Within three days. I'll forward them to your e-mail account as they come in to mine. And, Neji…" a glint had come back to his eyes, as he snagged the new redhead and pulled her down to his lap. "That'll cost you too."

* * *

Hinata looked nervously back over her shoulder at the school, Madara weaving through the cars ahead of them with her hand firmly clasped in one of his. "A-Are you sure it'll be all r-right, Madara?"

"I'm certain." He looked back at her and smiled. Hinata felt her knees weaken a bit and tilted her chin up.

_I am a Hyuuga,_ she told herself sternly. _I can't get too infatuated… I still don't know what he wants with me, other than he says he—_

Madara dropped her hand to open the door of the Superleggera, and she slid in, or dropped into the seat. He got in the other side and started the engine, and with the screech of tires pulled away from the curb and sped down the residential streets at something probably thirty miles above the speed limit. Hands clenched on the hem of her skirt, Hinata tried to ignore the panic; Madara always said he'd never hurt her, and it wasn't as though he wasn't in control of the car, anyway, he was just driving a little fast…

After they'd arrived at their destination, a popular spot with the crowd Hinata's family ran with, Hinata decided that while Madara was certainly a skilled driver, he was not someone she desired to drive with often; he drove at dangerous speeds, cut other drivers off, and seemed hell-bent on getting to wherever he was going as fast as possible.

Hinata made to open her own door and get out but Madara caught her arm, that same funny smile on his face. "Please, allow me," he said, and got out to open her door and pull her up out of the car. "Where I come from," he said, "We treat ladies as they deserve."

She blushed, grabbing her purse out of the car, and froze. "M-Madara-san, we're out—"

"I know." Madara smiled at her, stroking her arm through the sleeve. "I do not like hiding this from everyone."

"But my father—"

"If he is angry, let me know." A strong arm wound around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side. "I will take care of things."

Hinata looked up at him, trying to read his expression. It was set, determined; she'd learned he had a dogged tenacity with everything, pursuing it until he got what he wanted. But under that was something else, something she couldn't identify but made her uncomfortable all the same. "A-are you sure?"

"Of course I am, little one. I understand your father's feelings—you are his cherished daughter after all, are you not? It is meet that a father should be suspicious of any man who seeks his daughter's hand."

Hinata squeaked, and Madara laughed. The few people in the area who hadn't been caught by the sight of the Lamborghini pulling up looked up at that rich sound, saw her, and stared. Hinata was used to being in the spotlight, but not like this; nonetheless, she composed herself and smiled at them, holding tightly to Madara's arm. So busy looking around was she that she didn't catch the satisfied smirk on his face as they started down the outdoor mall.

It was modeled to look like a street fair, in some historic city; the buildings tall and close together, the street narrow. One had no choice but to stop and look at a store's window displays, or even go inside to escape a crowd. They bought nothing, but Hinata made note of a couple outfits she found fetching, and though Madara tried she would not let him buy any jewelry for her, blushing too furiously. It was enough that they would be seen in public together, but the talk that would start if it was said they'd emerged with a purchase from a jewelry store…

At the end of the day he brought her back to the school; her guards had been duped into thinking she was still in a classroom and waited in the lounge designed for them. Hinata collected her books, trying to look as though she hadn't spent the afternoon with someone else and off-campus, besides. Madara watched, a strange expression on his face. When she made to get out, he caught her at hips and shoulders.

"I do not wish for you to go," he murmured, words sending warm breath over the sensitive skin at her neck. "I do not want you to be gone from my side for a moment."

"Y-you can always call," Hinata said lamely. One hand rested over his on her hip. "And I'll see you t-tomorrow probably." She turned back in the seat and he met her eyes, dark and light together. "It'll only be a little while, Madara-san."

For a moment he appeared to debate something, and then leaned up and kissed her very lightly, at the corner of her mouth. It took no more than a few seconds, but it was enough for her to smell the heady, male scent of his cologne, feel the brush of his lips on hers, soft but firm and unyielding. Her heart thought to pound out of her chest, as she stared at Madara a long moment before he released her.

"Go. I shall see you on the morrow," he said, and smiled a little wanly. Feeling her heart hurt, Hinata waved when she'd closed the door and watched him drive off. All that had put thoughts of the uneasiness of earlier out of her mind, for how could a man who expressed this level of emotion be anything but kind?

Walking into the bodyguard lounge, she collected hers and went home, straight up to her bedroom. The next morning she was gone early, a legitimate class function this time; good it was that she did, for she was spared her father's wrath.

* * *

Itachi had the covers pulled off him rudely, and struggled to wake up and focus on the livid Hyuuga standing at his bedside.

"Hiashi-san," he said, voice still thick with sleep. "What—"

"_You—you prevaricating Uchiha—!"_

Blinking the last of his sleep from his eyes, Itachi stared blankly up at Hiashi, uncomprehending. The man was red with rage, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, hands clenching. "Forgive me, Hiashi-san, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

The Hyuuga oyabun tossed one of the day's gossip rags on the bed, and made a sound like an enraged bull. "Look at it, Uchiha."

Confused, Itachi picked it up—and promptly dropped it, staring at the picture on the front page. "Hiashi-san, please, I had—"

"Were you party to this—this _deception_?" Hiashi's face was inches from his when he looked up. "I know your mind, Uchiha—you sought to distract me with pretty words and the show of negotiation whilst this pedophile despoiled Hinata right under my very nose!"

"Hiashi-san, I assure you such was not my intention," Itachi said. The door opened and Neji came in with the morning's tea, saw Hiashi, and made to walk right back out, but Hiashi's head snapped around and he pointed at Neji.

"You, boy, did you know of this?"

"Know what, Hiashi-sama?"

Snatching the paper from Itachi's lap, he shoved it at his nephew. Neji's expression became something like horror. "Hiashi-sama, I had no idea—she called yesterday to tell me she was going to be tutoring another student, she said she had your permission—"

"She _had._" Hiashi glared again at Itachi. "That vile Uchiha she's with is teaching her to lie to her father, to sneak around with him behind my very back!"

Itachi had slid out of bed and now knelt, forehead to the floor. "Please accept my deepest apologies, Hiashi-sama," he said, honest. "I had no part in this."

Hiashi glared at both of them for a long moment, then pointed at Neji. "You will go and pick Hinata up from school. I will call and tell them I am pulling her out today and probably for the rest of the week. See that she speaks to nobody, and take her phone so she cannot communicate with that—that man. You," and he pointed now at Itachi. "You will come with me to my office and await the arrival of Uchiha Madara."

* * *

Madara, it seemed, had planned this from the start. He roused the Uchiha tower early, gathering such an entourage as was appropriate for him. When they were all dressed to his liking, he led them out, a long train of black-garbed Uchiha that piled into limousines; Madara, Fugaku, and Sasuke in the front, alone.

Their arrival at the Hyuuga tower caused a great stir; people on the sidewalk stopped, pushed back by Hyuuga guards, to make way for the procession. Every Uchiha was in place; they made an impressive entrance, two columns of beautiful men and women garbed in black silk kimono, the uchiwa that gave them their name tucked in their obi at the back. And at the head, Madara, by far the most beautiful of them all.

Only Madara, Fugaku, and Sasuke went up to the top floor. Reflecting on this, Sasuke was rather glad; it was unbearably hot in the kimono as it was, the hot, heavy air of the city making the silk stick to his skin. With the entire entourage, the tension between the Hyuuga and Uchiha leaders would have sent the temperature skyrocketing.

He found out it wouldn't have made a difference; the air up here was oppressive anyway, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Sasuke had only a little snub-nosed Beretta tucked artfully in his kimono, and a little knife in his obi, and his own skill to rely upon. Somehow, in this den of people who were said to kill with a touch, that didn't seem like enough. Sasuke's fingers itched for his sword.

Madara, however, seemed unconcerned. He was confident, a little smirk on his face as he walked right up to where Hyuuga Hiashi sat at the big desk and bowed his head ever so slightly. Sasuke saw the other man tense up, insulted.

"Hyuuga Hiashi-_san,_" Madara said, as though greeting an old friend. "So good to find you in such fine health."

"Perhaps not such a fine humor as you may think, Uchiha Madara," Hiashi said stiffly, deliberately leaving off any honorific. Sasuke locked eyes with his brother, standing beside Hiashi's desk. Itachi's expression was unreadable.

"Oh? And why might that be?"

Hiashi had chairs brought—he would be a good host, to the last—and with a gesture bid Madara sit. Fugaku stood behind his uncle, and Sasuke remained standing to one side. "I have found out an unfortunate thing, Uchiha," he said, "An unfortunate thing that pertains to you."

"Is that so?"

"You've been—" and here, Hiashi's voice began to shake with barely-concealed anger, something that unsettled Sasuke—"_Disporting _ yourself with my daughter, whose hand you have asked for in marriage. Do you truly believe this will ingratiate yourself with me any faster?"

"Of course not, Hiashi-san. I do not give myself to such illusions." He laughed a little, and Hiashi seemed only to grow more angry. "I understand your anger, and—"

"No, Madara-_san_, I do not believe you do," Hiashi said, angry. "I believe you go around with my daughter behind my back to erode my authority over her. Such is your way; you sneak about with your belly to the ground like the snakes at Hebi, except at least Hebi has _some_ class."

Madara sighed. "You will not acquiesce to my second request, then?" he asked. His voice sounded resigned, but at this angle, Sasuke could see the canniness in his great-uncle's gaze.

"I would be a fool if I were to do so." Hiashi glared at the man across from him. "Do you think I do not care for my daughters, to give my eldest to a man thrice her age, and with your reputation, Madara-san? Do you think I care so little for their well-being and happiness?" He made a sound of disgust. "I would not give you Hinata, nor Hanabi, no matter what you offered me as gain of it. It is not worth the price of seeing my daughters subjected to your perversions and your disparate way of thinking."

"Father, what—"

Hiashi looked up sharply, and Madara looked around, the grin on his face becoming ever wider. Hinata stood just inside the room, Neji behind her (Sasuke noted a slight shift in Itachi's posture and body language as the young man came closer, but thought nothing of it), and she was staring wide-eyed at Madara.

"Madara? What…?"

"Hinata-san," he said quietly, and Sasuke was startled to hear that his tone of voice, even the way he uttered the honorific, had changed entirely. It was softer, kinder. Weaker.

"Madara-san, w-what is going… what is happening here?" Her eyes darted to Hiashi, frozen at his desk. "Father, what is going on?"

"Hinata," Hiashi said, rising. "You are not to see Madara again. You are not to speak to him, whether in person, on the phone, or through e-mail. You will be escorted to and from school each day by Neji, who is hereby released from all other duties until such time as I can trust you again. Neji, Hinata's phone."

Wordlessly, Neji gave it over. Hiashi checked the messages, the incoming and outgoing calls, and ground his teeth. "She does spend a significant amount of time talking to you, Madara-san. One can only wonder what a sixty-year-old man wants with a girl who is not yet of age."

"I assure you, Hiashi-san, she would not come to harm."

"I do not believe you," Hiashi said coldly. "Get out of my office and my tower, and let me never see your face within ten blocks of this place again, or the _kami_ help me, I will kill you myself and spare the rest of my family the insult of Hyuuga blood mixing with the blood of a black traitor such as you."

Madara rose, bowing his head. "I do hope you will reconsider, Hiashi-san," he said, steely eyes glittering bright. "Perhaps you may find it to be in your best interest."

"That I doubt highly. You have ten minutes to be gone from here, you and _all_ your misbegotten ilk." Hiashi's eyes flicked over to Itachi, who bowed and stepped forward, following his uncle and father and falling into step beside Sasuke.

As they neared Hinata, Madara's pace slowed, and Sasuke watched as his body language shifted into something more gentle—more yielding. In front of a sputtering Hiashi, Madara took up her hand and kissed the knuckles. "Until we meet again, Hinata-san," he said softly, looking into her eyes. She made a soft noise, and Madara dropped her hand and, as he continued toward the elevators, threw a look over his shoulder at Hiashi. Sasuke caught only the side of it, and was glad to not have that directed at him.

The entire entourage was gone, in less than five minutes.

When they were, Hiashi turned the chair over in his rage. "I must have truly angered the _kami_," he spat, "To have them give me such a disobedient daughter, one that deceives me to cavort about the city with another man, one that knowingly flaunts my wishes and endangers not only herself but her family's honor!"

Hinata was crying, shaking already. "F-Father, please, I-I had n-no idea it w-was him, I d-didn't know, I—"

"You should not have had to!" Hiashi strode across the room, and Neji tensed, his protective instincts on edge. "You should not question me! You should not have ever even responded to his advances, but told me immediately!" Hinata could not even speak, but hid her face in her hands and sobbed, shoulders hunched. Hiashi's fine pale skin was flushed with anger.

"And you, Neji!" he turned on his nephew, stormcloud-grey eyes flashing. "You should have kept a closer watch upon her! She is your charge, not that Uchiha whelp who comes here with his pretty words! He is in his uncle's pocket, that is for certain—"

"Hiashi-san, my priority was ever Hinata's—"

"Shut up, I see how you looked upon him, casting a favorable glance upon him even in your silence!" Hiashi would not touch his daughters, but had no such qualms about his nephew, and backhanded Neji. The young man lay on the floor, unmoving. Hiashi glared between both of them, uttered a curse, and swept from the room.

A few minutes passed before Neji collected himself and ignored the throbbing in his jaw to help Hinata sit up and stand, going to the desk to get some tissues and dry her face. Her eyes were red, setting the lavender tint of her pupils off even more starkly.

"Neji-niisan, I-I'm sorry," she whispered. He shook his head.

"I have endured worse, Hinata-sama," he said softly. "Come, I shall draw you a bath. You shall feel better afterwards."

They waited for the elevator to come up, and on the ride down, Hinata burst into new tears.

"N-Neji-niisan, I d-did begin to like him," she whispered. Neji pursed his lips.

"It's better that you forget you did, Hinata-sama," he replied. "Uchiha Madara is not the kind of man to be in love with."

"And w-what about you and I-Itachi-san?" she asked. Neji opened her door for her, and did not give her an answer.

* * *

Madara paced the length of his apartment in the Uchiha tower, thunder on his brows and cell phone in hand. Never before had he had reason to hesitate in anything he did, but now, he was debating if he wanted to unleash this.

But he needed Hinata. He needed to give the rest of the world an example to follow, once his plans started bearing fruit.

Thumbing the green send button, he was pleased when it only went one ring before being answered.

_Leader-sama._

"The Black Company rides again but its annals are long lost," Madara said, deliberately. "Who will remember the deeds of such men?"

The line went dead, and Madara smiled, hanging up. Hiashi would regret this day.


	6. Chapter 6

Thunderclouds gathered over the city, dark and so low as to brush the tops of the towers that thrust up into the sky

Thunderclouds gathered over the city, dark and so low as to brush the tops of the towers that thrust up into the sky. Thunder rumbled in the man-made canyons between the buildings, shaking the floors as an earthquake would. Every so often, Neji would glance outward, watching the clouds gather as he packed up the things that Itachi had left behind in his retreat from the Hyuuga tower.

A retreat, but not a loss, that much was certain.

Hinata had been confined for the rest of the day, and guards placed at the door and on the balcony to insure that nothing Hiashi did not approve got in or out of her apartment. She had still been in tears when Neji had left her to come take care of this task, and he would not have left had it not been for the sense of obligation to someone whose shadow he'd been for the last week.

_Obligations, duties… you place much upon yourself, Hyuuga Neji,_ he thought, sliding the laptop inside its neoprene case and zipping that shut. _How much before you break?_

Did he have a breaking point anymore?

"It matters not," he muttered, and folded Itachi's clothes neatly into the case, and sent everything off with a courier unmarked by any family crest. He did not think a Hyuuga would be welcome in the bounds of Uchiha territory, at least were the Hyuuga anyone but Hinata. Already there were reports of minor skirmishes, the Uchiha procession being attacked by someone as they left the district. For his part, Neji hoped these were not ordered by his uncle. Hiashi's anger pervaded the tower, however, black as the clouds above, and Neji knew better than to ask after it. He didn't need to be hit again.

His phone rang; the number was unfamiliar, and with a furrowed brow he picked up. "Hyuuga Neji."

_This is Uchiha Itachi._

Neji immediately looked around the room; there was nobody there, but the whole tower was bugged, and he could very well have a wider audience than the lilies on the table. "Yes?"

_Might I ask a favor of you?_

Neji guessed it, and smirked. "Your things are en route to the Uchiha tower. A courier bears them."

_Not yourself?_

"I may be assuming much, but I do not believe I would be welcome there, being as I am obviously Hyuuga and the quarrel between our families grows large."

_Then perhaps suspicion will be off us both when we are in Suna district discussing matters at the Café Madhi?_

"Ah…" Neji shifted, staring out across the murky skies. A rain would clear the polluted air, but so far all it was was humid and oppressive, and very hot. "My duty is to my family and Hinata-sama, now. I am appointed her guard, above all other duties, and Hiashi would be sore wroth…"

_And if it were for the passing of information from one hand to another?_

"Ah, but we have two hands, and the one need not know what the other is doing." Neji's fingertips slid absently along the back of the ultra-modern couch. "How can I be sure that I am not being set up in some way?"

_I believed you thought better of me than that._

This statement took Neji aback; it was true, Itachi was less pretentious than any other Uchiha he'd had the dubious pleasure of meeting, but how the other man could know that was beyond Neji. "Perhaps knowledge is more important than family."

_It may be at that. At any rate, perhaps you should ask leave of your uncle to converse with an informant. That much I do not think he will question, and if I have the right of it your cousin is confined to her apartment, anyway._

Neji thought of how Hiashi would react if he knew that Neji was sneaking around to see an Uchiha after that morning's events. "Let us delay our luncheon until the weekend," he said. "Hiashi-sama intends to have Hinata-sama under lock and key, and I will be free to carry out his business as I see fit."

_That is how it must be, and I suppose I do see the reason. Saturday, at half past eleven._

"I'll see you there." Neji hung up, and slipped the phone back into his pocket, ordering the cleaning staff to go tidy up the room as he left, waiting, like the clouds above.

* * *

Thunder crashed, startling Sasuke out of his meditation. Orochimaru was at his desk, not twenty feet away, looking over the paperwork from R&D that had been unceremoniously dumped on his desk by Kabuto, who was in a fit this morning over something or other. Sasuke liked Kabuto well enough; they got along, though Sasuke always felt like the bright young doctor held him in disdain for the fact that he didn't scrape his nose on the floor whenever Orochimaru sneezed, or whatever. Sasuke was here to learn, not to take it up the ass, even though he'd been informed by many in the company that that was all he'd been taken on for. Uchiha were known for their beauty, after all; a worldly beauty of soft hands and lips, and if Orochimaru was nothing else, he was a man of worldly things.

With a glance from the man in question, Sasuke resettled himself on the cushion and felt for the thread he'd held before the thunder had distracted him. He was glad for the air conditioning; the walk through the parking garage from the fenced-off area where he parked his motorcycle to the elevators had made him think he was swimming, rather than walking, through the air. These clouds had gathered through the night, and when he'd left the Uchiha Tower he could feel the weight of the column of air above him, pressing down. Weather like this made men humble.

And now that relaxed state he'd been in was gone, Sasuke thought, glaring at the sky through the skylight above him. It glared back, ominous.

Getting up, he stepped delicately over a Burmese python that was slithering toward the stairs down to the guards at the security desk, and sat himself beside Orochimaru. The other did not even look over as he spoke. "Is there something on your mind, Sasuke-kun?"

"You know what it is."

"I do not, though I may hazard a guess that it involves your uncle."

Sasuke watched as Orochimaru signed some kind of legal document in a scrawl that did not resemble his name in the least, and set that aside. Thunder rumbled again outside. "It might."

"The entire city has heard of his outing to the Hyuuga Tower yesterday." Another sheaf of papers was pulled forward, the first page initialed after a careful scanning of the contents. "It has something to do with that."

Sasuke was quiet, watching Orochimaru's eyes flick back and forth as he read dense legalese. "He asked Hyuuga Hiashi-san for Hinata's hand in marriage, and Hiashi-san refused. Rather spectacularly."

"I imagine he would. Hiashi-kun has ever been a cautious man with cautious motives. Though in honesty I cannot blame him for having doubts about marrying his daughter to Uchiha Madara, given the man's history of leadership…" Orochimaru shot his young protégé a look. "Really, Sasuke-kun, did you not read your histories, as I asked?"

"I did." Petulant, Sasuke scuffed at the carpet. "But he's not head of Uchiha… and I thought he named Itachi heir."

"Did he?" Orochimaru laughed. "Madara believes anyone can be controlled. Your brother will be but a pawn in his greater game."

Sasuke mulled this with some horror. It was hard to believe that Itachi—brave, talented, genius Itachi—would be anyone's tool. And there was something else… "I don't think so."

"Oh?" Orochimaru stopped, looking at him. "How so?"

"Itachi won't let himself be used."

Orochimaru laughed. "Your optimism will not get you far in this world, Sasuke-kun. There is nobody now alive who knows Madara's mind." He paused his pen a moment, teeth grinding as though there was something else in his thoughts. "There's the rub…"

Sasuke knew better than to push the subject when it induced such a reaction in his teacher, even though it made him intensely curious. He hadn't uncovered any connection between the Hebi CEO and his uncle. Apparently, he would need to dig deeper.

"Enough of that." Orochimaru finished initialing and signed the last page, and put it aside. "I am famished, and you—you are a growing boy, and so must eat constantly to keep up your strength. It will make me look bad if the foremost of my pupils is malnourished!"

* * *

In this city, to see people garbed in black with hoods over their faces was not an uncommon occurrence. One could easily chalk it up to a street gang, trying to claw their way up the ladder at the top of which stood those gleaming bastions of power, or some agent of said bastions. Those who knew—the police officers that still had a conscience and tried to follow the oaths they took when they received their badges—knew that anyone in the employ of Hebi, Uchiha, or Hyuuga would not look so conspicuous. Despite all this, the two black-hooded men managed to get into the shipyards, in Suna district where it bordered the sea. It was generally known that Hyuuga had a great interest in the goods that came in and out here, and shipped their goods to black markets around the world at a very nice sum indeed.

"Is this the target?"

The shorter of the two checked the BlackBerry he had, and nodded. "We are to go to the guardhouse at Lot C."

"This place is a dump, un."

"We are not here to appraise its aesthetic value."

The blond dropped his hood, shaking out a mane of well-kept hair. "It's fucking hot, Sasori-danna. He'd better be paying us extra."

"It's the middle of summer. Shut up, Deidara, we must get this done in a timely manner."

They walked casually between the hulking containers; occasionally the back duffel bag that Deidara carried would clang against a side and make a racket. The blond appeared not to notice, just as he appeared not to notice the security guard who stepped out of the stuffy guardhouse labeled 'C' to intercept them.

"Only authorized personnel are allowed past this point," he said, looking at them warily. "Badges, please." The way he held his hand indicated another form of identification was acceptable too; it all spent the same, after all.

"Oh dear," Deidara said. There was a particularly malicious glint in his eye. "I seem to have forgotten mine at home, un."

"Will this do?"

There was a short, sharp popping noise, and the guard fell dead, a hole perfectly in the center of his forehead. Sasori lowered the gun and unscrewed the silencer, tucking both away in his coat.

"Guess so."

"Go set it up, Deidara," Sasori ordered as he knelt beside the dead guard, pulling a piece of paper and pen out of another pocket in his coat and laying his BlackBerry on the dead man's chest as he scrawled down the message their superior had ordered them to. Sliding the note, folded, between the guard's lips, he waited impatiently. Deidara _always_ took forever; it amazed the redhead how someone could be such a perfectionist and still obsess over something so fleeting. While he waited, Sasori helped himself to the surveillance footage that showed them walking up and shooting the guard, replacing it with something less alarming. Little details, he thought, should always be attended to.

At last the blond came careening out of the rows of containers at full tilt, giggling like a loon. "Run, run, Sasori!" he cried, looking far too gleeful. "We've ten minutes and the blast is going to be _huge_, un!"

Sasori began to run, and grinned when they left the shipyards and the limousine was there to pick them up, the door already open.

"Is it done?" Pein asked, sitting across from them as they pulled away from the curb. His phone was already pressed to his ear.

"We aren't gonna stay and watch it, un?" Deidara pouted; he'd put a lot of work into this one, and the thought that nobody was going to be around to watch it at the height of its glory aggravated him.

"Do you want to get caught? This place is going to be swarming with news crews and police within five minutes of the detonation. Unmarked limousines are a rarity here."

"Yeah, it's done."

Pein turned away to speak quietly into the cell phone. Behind them, a great orange flower blossomed in the sky, raining bits of metal and debris.

* * *

Neji was sitting in the back of the classroom, listening to the lecture on Mayan culture with half an ear and watching Hinata with both eyes, when his phone lit up; he checked the screen, saw it was Hiashi, and left the lecture hall quietly. Stepping into the hall he flipped his phone open. "Hiashi-sama?"

_There's been an incident. Take extra care when you are driving home._

"What was it?"

_One of the shipyards under our control was attacked—a bomb went off, destroying most of the cargo._

Neji didn't want to think about how much money that was going to cost the Hyuuga. "I shall. Has the area been secured? Anything found?"

_Just a note._ There was a tense pause. _It read, 'Hyuuga's transgressions will not go unpunished. The red sun will rise on a new day.'_

"Analysts gotten any lead on a culprit?"

_None of the usual suspects. Be careful, Neji._

"I understand, Hiashi-sama. I will take great pains to be careful." Neji hung up, staring at the floor a moment before slipping back inside. The teacher threw him a dirty look as he sat down again, resuming his silent vigil.

* * *

"What do you mean, you're withdrawing?"

The dealer shook a bit in front of the Hyuuga oyabun's annoyance. "It's just that that explosion yesterday, Hiashi-sama… well, it was really costly, and I don't want that happening to my goods again, and…"

"And?"

"Look, I'm just ending our contract, all right?"

Hiashi sighed. "Who paid you off? Was it Uchiha?"

"Nobody, sir, I just… I'm trying to go legit anyway, and this was the catalyst. I'm sorry but I can't do business with you anymore. I've got a wife and kids, sir, and I've got to start thinking of them."

"Very well." Hiashi tossed a roll of bills on the desk. "Termination settlement. Get out of my sight."

The man was escorted downstairs, to his waiting Escalade. Sitting in the back as his driver pulled out, the man took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. "I did as you asked," he said, sounding resigned. "Now, will you hold up your end?"

_Of course,_ the man's voice on the other end of the line replied. _You can expect the contract on your desk when you get back. Just sign it and send it back; I will give recompense for your destroyed goods in full, at better than market price. It was a pleasure doing business with you._

The line went dead. Putting his phone away, the man looked nervously at the two black-and-red wearing men across from him, and said, "Take me home and release my family, please. I will do as you say."

* * *

_You would do well to forget it,_ he had said.

Sitting in class on a Friday afternoon, Hinata tried to focus on the calculus problem at hand; math problems soothed her in a strange way, usually. But today her mind was unsettled and whirring, and she could not concentrate. She could feel Neji's gaze on her every so often, and redoubled her efforts to look unaffected. The simple truth was, though, that no matter what Madara actually was, no matter _who_ he was or what he'd done, Hinata's kind heart had taken him into itself. She missed him—and despite the long list of his crimes she'd been presented with, courtesy of her father and cousin, she couldn't help but remember the man who had been too shy to come into a café to meet her. He said he'd never hurt her.

Confusion led her to lose the confidence she had held in the last few weeks; her stutter, which had slowly been improving, came back with a vengeance, and to compensate Hinata rarely spoke, not even to her cousin. Maybe she should have, she thought, going home with him that day. He was confused, too, and in that she felt closer to him and driven away at once. Neji did not understand what he felt any more than the man he cast eyes on understood, but it would take a blind man to deny it was there.

She was glad the week was over. Her father was livid, between Madara's visit and the fact a favorite dealer had backed out the other day. And Neji… well, Hinata needed time to think.

"Neji-niisan?" she asked. He tilted his head, indicating he was listening. "Father was right, wasn't he?"

Neji's grip tightened a bit on the wheel. "Yes, Hinata-sama," he said, softy. "He was. Let us not talk of it."

* * *

Lee called that evening wanting to see if Neji and Hinata could come out. Neji said that regretfully, he had to decline. There were difficulties.

_Difficulties? What sort?_

The note of worry in Lee's voice made something in Neji's chest tighten. He had not forgotten their friendship, not by a long shot, but… "Ones in the family. I am sorry, Lee. I wish I could go out."

_You need a vacation from your family, my friend! Naruto is starting university soon—_

"Naruto made university?" Neji muttered. Lee didn't hear him.

_--at One-Nine again, Neji, you ought to come and come up to the room with us this time! You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded, and you are quickly growing old._

"I'll think about it. E-mail me the details. Goodbye."

He hung up on Lee's protests and sighed, resting his head in his hands a moment, taking deep breaths. It was tempting, so tempting to take Lee up on his offer and go enjoy himself—he hadn't in a long time, not since the day Hiashi had escorted him to the plush room in the Hyuuga Tower where he and others had learned their trade. He had been fifteen, a year away from an early graduation, and arrogant. Now, he was just tired.

His phone rang again, and without looking, Neji silenced the ringer. He suddenly didn't feel like talking to anyone.

* * *

Itachi pulled the phone away from his ear and slipped it back into his pocket—quickly, as Madara was coming over, and he didn't want to be grilled about who he'd been talking to, or trying to talk to, anyway. Neji hadn't picked up. Itachi didn't leave a voicemail.

"Itachi-kun," his uncle said, opening his arms as though for an embrace. "How are you doing? Your exam is this week is it not?"

"Monday, Uncle Madara. Eight in the morning."

"Truly, you're a credit to the family." Madara put an arm around Itachi's shoulders, led him away a little bit. "Itachi, I would like you to go to the district leader and arrange for me an audience with her."

"Father would be better—"

"Your father mustn't know, Itachi-kun. This is between you and I."

Itachi bowed, rising only after Madara had left to continue working on his premature wedding plans. The proposal was far from accepted, and yet the man seemed so sure that he would—

Flame blossomed across the city; three explosions one after the other and so strong that the entire building shook as though in an earthquake. Itachi shoved people out of the way until he could get to a window, watching as the debris that was thrown into the air started raining down—people, cars, everything it seemed. The sirens were already blaring.

Itachi turned, looking up at his father, and was surprised to see Fugaku nearly vibrating in rage, fists clenched as he glared at Madara. But even the heat from the window faded into a deep chill when Itachi saw that his uncle was smiling.

* * *

"That's the second target," Deidara said, watching the carnage out the back window. "Gotta hand it to ya, Sasori-danna, you aren't bad with electronics."

"All another form of art," the redhead muttered. Deidara snorted and flipped the phone shut, throwing it out the window into traffic. It was immediately crushed. Not wanting the blond to launch into another lecture, Sasori nodded to the man who sniveled between two other members of the group. "Now, are you going to do as we demand?"

"Fuck," the man moaned. He resembled a mouse, Sasori thought with disgust. A little frightened mouse, faced with a desert cobra and backed up into a corner. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, do you know how much money that was—"

"We are aware," Sasori said icily. "We are prepared to make recompense with you and yours, if you break with Hyuuga."

"Shit, man, my family's always worked with Hyuuga, they've treated us well—"

"You will break tradition, or you will die, and our two associates who are currently at your home will kill your girlfriend—though she didn't mean much to you anyway, she's only been around a week or so." He pushed a button on a remote and a video screen slid out, displaying a man with a huge scythe pacing restlessly in front of an opulent bed, upon which sat a woman who was utterly hysterical. Sasori eyed the dealer. "So will you do as we ask?"

The man's eyes were glued to the screen as the ashen-haired man stopped pacing and grinned maniacally, stepping to the side of the bed and raising his scythe up in the air. "I'll do it," he whispered. "Just don't hurt her. I'll fucking do it, all right?"

"Excellent." Sasori pushed a briefcase over to the other side of the limo with his foot, as if it and its contents disgusted him. "There's your first payment. The other half will be given to you after you do as we have told, now… we will arrange for a driver to come get you when you're done giving your so-sad news to Hyuuga Hiashi." They dumped him in front of the Hyuuga Tower, and Sasori rolled down the window a crack. "And you have to say it exactly as we have taught you. We have placed a listening device in your pocket—no, get your hand out of there, we'll know if you toss it away and kill you—and we will be expecting you to perform admirably."

The man swallowed, nodded, and turned to climb up the steps. Sasori smiled wickedly as he rolled the window back up. Deidara was already on the phone with their leader, as Pein and Konan ordered the driver to go.

* * *

Hiashi slammed his fist on the desk. "Madara thinks he can break me," he muttered. "He plays these games..." Glaring at Neji, who sat silently across from him, not looking up, Hiashi asked, "Did you not have a client?"

Neji's voice was calm when he spoke. "Hiashi-sama, the client canceled." This had been an unforeseen humiliation for Neji; being the best in his line of work, he'd never been denied before. Those who had him once lusted after him again; those who had never had him wished to. Neji was used to this being the way of things. "He said it would not be good to be seen with a Hyuuga."

Hiashi stood, paced back and forth; the flat-screen television mounted on the wall was muted, the tickertape at the bottom announcing the explosion downtown this afternoon had killed at least fifty and left hundreds more wounded. The three trucks that had been blown up had been carrying goods going to the basements of the Hyuuga Tower, awaiting sale. Now those profits, and the profits from the imported cars, would never see Hyuuga coffers. And the man whom Neji had been scheduled to see was a weapons dealer, one they had had under contract since Hiashi's grandfather had been the boss. In effect, by refusing Neji he had just canceled that.

"We will not break," he repeated, looking out over the city toward the spire that rose in the center of Otogakure. "We are Hyuuga, and have been in this business since before the first Uchiha was ever conceived. We will exist after they are all dead." Neji bowed his head, acknowledging that in a soft murmured agreement, but he could not help but note the tremor in his uncle's voice.

"Father?"

Both of them turned to see Hinata standing in front of the elevator, fidgeting a bit. Hiashi's jaw tightened but he nodded. "Neji, leave us."

Hinata took a deep breath as Neji passed by her, and stepped forward, shoulders squared even though inside she was trembling. Once the elevator doors closed on her cousin, Hinata stepped forward and bowed to her father. "Father, i-it's about Madara-san's proposal…"

"I am absolute on my decision." Hiashi stared at his daughter, taking in the nervous way her hands twisted in her lap, the redness of her eyes. She was upset—but over a man like Madara?

"Father, I know what you s-said, and what Neji has said r-regarding him." She stopped a moment, taking a deep breath. "But Father, I c-cannot forget how kind he has been to me. He's shown me—"

"He's _shown_ you what he wants you to see, Hinata, not what he truly is. Madara seeks to use you to bring down this company—your family, Hinata. Does that count for nothing with you?"

"I wouldn't let him."

Her lack of a stutter on that emphatic statement, sounding so bold in her little voice, gave Hiashi pause. That generally meant Hinata was serious about something—but he'd made his wishes clear. "You think you could stop a man like Madara from getting his way?" Hiashi snorted. "You are just a woman, a pawn, to him. He would get what he wants from you and cast you aside when he has no further use for you."

"And how would you know what he wants, Father?" Hinata was adamant, even as she shook, not used to defying her father in this way. "Perhaps you a-are all wrong and assuming things."

"Has he been talking to you again?" Hiashi asked, after a pause. "Has he been telling you to say these things? Making you believe his _lies_ while he sabotages my contracts?"

"I have n-not seen him since the d-day he came here," Hinata replied, frustration starting to rise in her voice. She may have been a quiet creature, but when she spoke up she wanted to be heard, and that her own father was not understanding her was something she wasn't used to. "The r-reports all tell of n-no Uchiha in the a-area, and their spokesman Shisui—"

"Oh, I know what propaganda they put out, no need to have my daughter parrot it back at me."

Hinata fiddled with the hem of her skirt, settling it over her knees. "You used to a-ask our opinion on things," she said quietly. "Hanabi and I. You valued our input a-and our happiness." She rose, shaking like a leaf but with her head tilted upward, not looking at the ground. "Maybe some good c-could come of me m-marrying Madara-san."

He snorted. "And what could that possibly be?"

"M-maybe if Madara-san took things over…" Hinata bit her lip, looking sad. "We would get our father back."

She left her father standing there, bewildered, and sat for a long time in her room. In a vase on the table was a single white camellia, shaking slightly every time thunder rumbled across the city.

* * *

Three weeks later, Hiashi stood behind the big desk, looking out over the city. This district had been kept by his forefathers since the Hyuugas had banded together enough to become one family. He had thought they would hold them still into perpetuity, them and all the myriad dealers that had made their family strong. He had plans to give the company to Hinata, to teach her to the business that he had previously kept her so sheltered from. He thought it would keep her from men like Madara, who only wanted her for the money she represented, the fame that came with the Hyuuga wife.

Or the power to crush anyone in the city.

It had come to this decision, this one he had renounced the day he sent Madara and those he had taken with him away. Hiashi's pale eyes looked out across the city, shrouded in darkness by the clouds that would not leave, that would not bless the city with rain. The smog built up under them, was blown away on gusts of wind that shook the glass in front of him; thunder shook it too, and lightning lit the sky every now and then.

"How did it come to this?" he murmured, lost in thought.

* * *

He was not the only Hyuuga in the tower to be so pensive. Sitting on the couch, laptop open beside him, Neji drew his knees up to his chest and turned the last few weeks over in his head. The meeting Saturday had led to another meeting the next weekend, and…

_Why do you let yourself be used?_

The question had been different, when asked over a cup of tea and chicken methi, in the bright sunlight with Itachi in his pressed suit looking at him across the table. Neji had been about to take a sip of tea, but had put his cup down silently and looked up at the Uchiha. Indeed, the circumstances had been quite different, this time around. They had talked of many things on Saturday, except the one thing that kept them coming back to the sleazy little café in Suna.

_I could ask the same of you, Uchiha Itachi._

Heaving an annoyed sigh, Neji picked the laptop up and began composing an e-mail to one of his clients, asking him in polite terms to reconsider cancelation of their appointment. He had become surprisingly adept at these letters in the last few weeks, rewriting and revising until it was truly a work of art. Though it did no good, as the clients were adamant in their refusals, the perfecting of something made him feel a sense of accomplishment.

His phone vibrated; he'd been expecting a call from Itachi, saying he was on his way. Instead it was Hiashi. Brow furrowed, Neji flipped the phone open and put it to his ear.

"Hello?"

* * *

The Uchiha at the front desk had looked up in surprise to see three Hyuuga walking toward her. The young man in front, all dressed up, she remembered seeing. His eyes were so beautiful, all shades of gray like the sky outside, but she thought them a little sad. But that didn't last long; unlike in the higher echelons of the family, her dislike for the Hyuuga was bred into her, and since the humiliation of their leader had grown to a fever pitch. Now, she stared at them haughtily.

"We come bearing a message to Uchiha Madara." The young man's jaw was set proudly. "We cannot let it fall upon other ears."

"I'll tell him you're here—"

"No need."

Neji looked over at the familiar voice, expression not betraying anything as he bowed slightly. "Itachi-san. I trust we are expected?"

Itachi nodded once. "This way, please." He waited until Neji and the two guards behind him were inside the elevator before stepping inside, pressing the button for the top floor and swiping his card. He could watch Neji out of the corner of his eye, but the Hyuuga appeared not to even notice he was there, staring straight ahead and cool as ice.

The doors opened, and the Hyuugas walked forward first. Itachi stayed by the elevators; the stiff expression on Neji's face told him this would not take long. Madara was already on his way over, a disquieting smile on his face and his hands open in a gesture of friendship.

"Hyuuga-san," he said, bowing his head. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

Neji bowed, the expression on his face not changing. He seemed to Itachi to be a doll, wound up by his uncle and sent to do his bidding; dressed as he was, in the flowing white-and-gold of the Hyuuga family, his hair bound back and falling freely to his hips, he looked it, every inch.

"A message, from Hyuuga Hiashi to Uchiha Madara." Neji paused, wetting his lips.

Heads poked up, people looked up from their desks. Fugaku stopped talking with a newly-acquired client and looked over. The room held its breath.

"The offer is accepted. Hyuuga Hiashi allows Uchiha Madara to take Hyuuga Hinata to wife." Neji's head bowed low enough to block the brief expression of triumph that crossed Madara's face, perhaps on purpose; from the set of Neji's shoulders, Itachi could hazard a guess that Neji had anticipated such a response from the Uchiha head.

"That is most excellent news," Madara said, gesturing to Neji, who rose. "The arrangements for the wedding are already underway. I trust I can speak to Hinata-san to set a date?"

"Her cell phone is back in her possession, and her e-mail is turned back on. You may contact her at your leisure."

"I will, and I will contact Hiashi-san to tell him what a wonderful nephew he has." Madara's smile was even wider as he held a hand out to Neji. "I will tell him such talent should not be wasted on errand boys' tasks and whoring."

Itachi wondered how much self-control it had taken for Neji to keep his face that schooled, even to twist his lips up until a smile. "That is not necessary, Uchiha-san. If there is nothing else, may I leave?"

"Yes, you needn't stay longer."

With that, Neji turned and made for the elevators, followed closely by his two guards. Itachi opened the doors as they got near, going at a faster pace than they left it. The doors closed, and Itachi did look over this time, studying the young man closely. There were not many signs to tell that Neji was angry when he was trying to hide it; his self-control was, as he himself had said at one of their lunch dates, legendary. But the set of the Hyuuga's jaw, the sparkle in his pale eyes—Itachi was simply glad such wrath was not directed at him. It would have struck him to the bone.

"Good day, Itachi-san," Neji said as the elevator doors opened on the lobby. "I do believe we shall be seeing much more of each other from now on."

"I believe we shall," Itachi replied. Neji stepped out of the elevator, and was gone.

* * *

Madara waited until the elevator doors had closed to laugh heartily and cast a victorious look at Fugaku. "Ye of little faith," he said. "I knew that Hiashi would see things my way."

"After you cut off almost a quarter of his clientele," Fugaku said. He shifted, looking at his uncle's back. "Our forefathers—"

"They were fools!" Madara whirled. "Idealistic, pacifist fools." His expression became distant, and without looking Fugaku knew that Madara was looking at the Hyuuga Tower, and the Hebi Tower beyond that. "Uchiha will not be ground into the dust of this city any longer. Why, Fugaku, you should be proud. Don't you care for your family's future?"

A long silence, which ended with Fugaku bowing his head in defeat. "I do. But your group—"

"I will handle them." Madara had pulled a strange cell phone out of a pocket, and was dialing a number. "Everything is under my control."

* * *

The stormclouds hung low over the Uchiha Tower; it wasn't windy, but that wasn't a good thing, as the humidity made the air sit heavy on the crowd of reporters and invited persons gathered on the black marble steps. A podium with the uchiwa was set before them, wires for the microphones of a dozen different news agencies snaking along the ground.

In the crowd, Orochimaru watched his young protégé as the Uchihas gathered on one side of the podium, garbed in black; the Hyuugas were on the opposite side, in white. It was a striking picture, he thought; really, quite ingenuously engineered. And Madara himself—ah, Orochimaru had not seen the man in years, but he didn't appear to have aged a day. His hair had no touch of gray, his eyes were (from what he could tell at this distance) just as clear as ever, and as frightening. Orochimaru had been frightened of Madara, even all those years ago when he had eternity ahead of him.

A hush fell over the crowd; Madara had stepped up to the podium, his young fiancée at his side. "Today," he began, "I bring Konoha, and the city entire, a ray of new light.

"For years, this district and this city has been divided between our two families. Public brawls, unrest; this city was more than once torn apart by violence that stemmed from a hatred between our forebears. This hate was without reason, without direction, and in these later generations, the very reason for the strife was lost. It was an excuse for the lawless, a cover for the denizens of the underworld to complete their vile business."

Behind the podium, Itachi suppressed a derisive snort. But Madara's speech was having the desired effect; people were listening. Getting people to listen to him was something Madara was far too good at. Beside him, Sasuke shifted his weight a bit. Itachi glanced over, and saw his brother's fair skin was gleaming with sweat. It wasn't sunny, it hadn't been for a month now, but the heat was oppressive.

"It was in the midst of this that I found the woman I am going to marry." Madara's tone was slightly different here; he was engaged, leaning toward his audience, expression earnest. "In the inhospitable wasteland created between our two families, a new hope has blossomed. Our love—the love I feel for Hyuuga Hinata—shall unite our two families, and together, we will change this city, and right the wrongs of those who have come before us, as soon as we are married two months hence. May I present to you my wife-to-be?"

He stepped around the podium, gently tugging Hinata to his side; she was flushed a bright red, but raised a hand and waved a little, growing a bit more confident with Madara's arm around her shoulders. The crowd cheered, and reporters immediately began to step forward, peppering them with questions. Neji watched as Hinata shrank back a bit but was drawn forward again. Madara whispered something in her ear and she smiled, seeming to take heart at that.

Looking across the steps, he locked eyes with Itachi, and realized that the dread he felt was reflected in the other's gaze.


	7. Chapter 7

The city was a different place at night; while the heat still pressed down upon those foolish enough to venture outside, it was slightly more bearable when the sun was not around to heat the air. The temperatures lingered though, radiating from the concrete and glass buildings. The streets sweated, sticky with water and grime, and air conditioners hummed loudly, breaking any stillness that was allowed to settle on the city in the midst of its various comings and goings.

Inside, however, it was never quiet. The offices might be empty on this Friday night, but everywhere else, humanity surged and moved in its endless dance. The malls were packed; teenagers, when they couldn't get into the nightclubs, came here to trade glances and whispers. They were too young for it, but new life surged through the city in the wake of the wedding announcement, and its pull was undeniable. It all added to the din; the heated exchanges of those barely out of childhood, the pounding beats from the clubs, the strident tones of the car horns, the sound of the wind, the movement of many people.

It was all evident in the music the club pumped out now, echoing through the haze that settled over the dancing crowd as always. Itachi sat on a couch in one of the rooms the club had generously offered for their use. He had been inwardly surprised at how the city had turned out in support of the union; but then again, they didn't know the inner workings of the companies that in two months' time would be united by marriage. They didn't know the man they celebrated, the man who lounged now on an overstuffed, ultramodern couch with Hinata beside him. His hand would occasionally stroke her bare shoulder, long pale fingers touching pale skin. Itachi could not help admiring her a bit; even in her ignorance of Madara's nature she was strong for dealing with him at all. It wasn't every female that could play a good counterpoint to Madara's thundering song.

The lounge was glassed in, soundproof but not shielded from the vibrations of the music in the main club area. The music inside here was more serene, more befitting the circle of people who now snacked on miniature sandwiches and drank far too much. The alcohol flowed freely, for those in Madara's company, and for those who did not get out of the towers often, it was an opportunity that was not to be passed up. One, however…

"Perhaps the lesson you learned about drink has stuck with you," Itachi said as he sat beside Neji on the couch the younger man reclined upon. They were across the room from where most of their respective families milled, where Madara and his shy fiancée held court. "Or perhaps you are like me and would rather not have your senses clouded around my uncle."

Neji looked extraordinarily chic in a black button-down shirt with the top buttons undone, and jeans so dark a blue they appeared black in the dim light of the lounge. The look of casual luxury was completed by the white sneakers that bobbed a bit as Neji shifted to look at Itachi sitting beside him. He had been stretched out on the couch with his legs over the arm, but now he brought one to the floor, wrapping his arms around the other leg and resting his head on it. His hair was bound back out of his face by a silver clip. In the light, his strange, pale eyes stood out.

"Only that I shouldn't drink and dance," Neji replied airily. "Unless, of course, I was seeking the same outcome."

"Of?"

"An aching head and sore feet." Neji arched a brow at him; business had miraculously come back to the Hyuuga with Hiashi's acceptance of Madara's proposal, and he was brittle with that day's work, feeling dirty despite multiple showers. Spending time in a place like this only threatened to fray his nerves even more. At least the company he kept here wasn't necessarily that of his family; was, indeed, far more pleasant.

"The end result is a more positive one, to be sure," Itachi said, watching the circle of people surrounding Madara and Hinata shift around. Sasuke and his teacher came in, the former bowing lower than the latter. Madara had an odd gleam in his eyes at the sight of Orochimaru. "Although it all depends on how you dance." His expression, he felt, conveyed his meaning quite well and judging by the way Neji's eyebrow shot up nearly to his hair, the Hyuuga got the message loud and clear.

"Or if it's even worth getting up," Neji said, leaning forward to pick his drink off the glass top of the table in front of them, and take a sip. Itachi watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed once before setting the cup back down.

"Surely," he said, "Some people are worth learning the steps. It sounds as though you have been partnering the wrong people."

"I never liked to tango, anyway. But, if one is prepared for them then there should be no trouble at all."

"And what sort of preparation could one do?"

"Practice." Neji tilted his head back, smirking just a little bit. "Hours and hours of it."

Itachi fell silent, staring into the depths of his drink for a few moments. Neji's voice, although wry, had held just the barest hint of bitterness—for all that he was younger than Itachi, Neji had had far more practice of the sort they were inferring than Itachi had. "It should not be overdone, unless for want of practice the steps are forgotten," he said at last. Neji's gaze did not waver, to his credit.

"Certainly not."

It was difficult to keep his mind off of the last time they had met in Suna; of the plans that had been laid, the things that had been said. It was revolutionary, what they'd talked about, and they could both very well be killed for even entertaining the idea, but it had been an intriguing one in light of the circumstances they'd met under at the time. And now, with Madara swooping about like he was ruler of this city, it seemed all the more alluring. Behind all that, though, there had been something they had talked about, without actually talking about it—that matter they addressed in subtle shifts of glance and body, in turns of phrase. This conversation without words, this dance they had begun those months ago with a single inebriated encounter, was the most normal thing they had. Everyone followed these steps, sooner or later.

"And what are you two commiserating about over here?" Both of them loked up suddenly to see Madara standing in front of them, smiling in that way of his. "Everyone has gone downstairs to dance, and you two remain here, gloomy as ever. Will you not join us?"

"In a moment, uncle," Itachi replied. His manner had changed; he'd become more submissive, a manner that didn't suit the proud man. It made Neji think of the way he was around a client. The idea of that mindset being applied to Itachi was sickening.

"Neji-kun," and the Hyuuga looked up, meeting those steely dark eyes without fear. "Don't be a stranger to us. You remember my wishes for our two families well."

"I will certainly try to be more familiar," Neji replied. "Hinata-san is dear to me. It may be that we will see much of each other." _Perhaps more than I care to,_ he thought icily.

"Good. Come down when the mood takes you." With a final lift of the corner of his lips, Madara went to join Hinata and disappeared down the spiral staircase. Neji and Itachi shared a look.

"We should go down," Itachi said after the silence, and the look, had stretched on for a few minutes. "That was not an optional invitation, as much as it sounded like one."

* * *

Between the wedding plans, helping Hinata pack up what she was going to take with her to live with the man who would be her husband in two months, and his own burgeoning clientele, Neji had barely a few free hours to zip across the city to visit Jiraiya. Thankfully, he found the man in fine fettle, comfortably appointed in his mansion, and once again out by the pool despite the fact that the sun was still obscured by rumbling clouds.

"When do you think the storm will finally break?" Jiraiya asked as Neji sat down on the chaise lounge next to his. His eyes were covered by sunglasses, but a tilt of his chin indicated the skies.

"Two months, perhaps?" Neji replied, after eyeing the sky as well. Jiraiya laughed.

"Ah, kid, your wit is still intact at least." Jiraiya sat up and nudged the girl on his lap off, telling her softly to take off to the pool. "Even after the circus your family's turning into. Hiashi's pissed?"

"He doesn't show it, but I can see it on his brow and his eyes." Neji watched the women splashing about in the shallow end of the pool, and said, "He's worried."

"All of us who have any sanity left are, I think." Jiraiya pulled another manila folder out from under his laptop and handed it to Neji. "Thought you might like this too."

Neji opened it, flipped through the contents—newspaper articles, e-mails, photocopies of letters, police reports. "What is this?"

"Everything I could dig up on Madara's past, from the birth announcements to the last time he was seen here in the city, in chronological order. You don't need to show it to your uncle, but I thought you in particular should know what your cousin's getting into." Jiraiya sat up, taking off his sunglasses. "You're one of the people in any position to do anything about it."

The Hyuuga closed the folder, expression blank. "I fail to see how I can do anything."

Jiraiya smiled. "You do? Then maybe you should put that great head of yours to it. I always thought you ought to go on to be a rocket scientist or something, for all you've got a brain the size of a planet."

Neji smiled—a true one, rare these days. "You lead the club on that one, I think." After he spoke, however, Madara's words came to mind. Thinking of the older Uchiha always made Neji uncomfortable.

The older man waved a hand. "I always was of the opinion your uncle was wasting your potential. But if you ever want to get out of it—and I suspect there'll be rearranging that even that belly-crawler Uchiha Madara doesn't know about—I've contacts I can put you in touch with."

Neji stood, tucking the folder into his briefcase. "I will certainly remember it," he said sincerely, and bowed. Jiraiya waved a hand.

"We don't stand on ceremony here, boy, you oughta know that. Go on back to that madness that your towers have become, and try not to get caught up in it yourself."

Turning on his heel, Neji made his way back through the mansion to the crushed stone driveway, digging in his pocket for his car keys, and was nearly hit by another car pulling in. Intending to give the driver an offended look for it, he quickly schooled that back into one of careful indifference when he saw that it was Orochimaru behind the wheel. Hebi's CEO, and the leader of the ring of miscreants and men of ill repute he led, shut off the engine and climbed gracefully out of the Ford Shelby. The car was obviously new—Orochimaru was forever buying new cars, it seemed—and sleek, with a new custom paint job of black, iridescent in the sunlight to a dark purple. Looking at it, he snorted, as there was a cobra on the front grill which ought to have clued him in to the driver.

The passenger door opened, and Uchiha Sasuke stepped out. He too looked as cool as his tutor, despite being in a black leather coat and black pants. This wasn't a business meeting then. Neji bowed in deference to Orochimaru's higher rank, feeling only slightly better about exposing his bare neck to this man than to Madara.

"Orochimaru-sama," he said respectfully. A memory, some months ago, of arguing with Orochimaru over the price of a murder made his lips twitch. As he straightened, he saw the same expression mirrored on the pale man's face, and knew he wasn't alone in his wanderings down memory lane. "You look in excellent health."

"Thank you," the man replied, his voice sibilant and chilling Neji despite the heat. "Exquisite as always, Neji-kun. Can you do _nothing_ wrong?" There was a lascivious smirk on Orochimaru's lips now and a scowl on Sasuke's, and Neji decided it better not to encourage the older man and leave now.

"I am needed at home; have a nice day." He nodded to Sasuke (their stations were equal, Neji felt quite all right about it), got into his Lexus, and drove off.

* * *

In the cloud of dust left by Neji's passing, Sasuke coughed once. It was a dainty one, not only in reaction to what the Hyuuga's car had kicked up but as a very clear message to Orochimaru. It was one that the man took great pleasure in hearing, and allowed himself to gloat over it as they were shown through Jiraiya's mansion to the pool deck where he lounged. Perhaps the care he was taking with that particular direction of Sasuke's future was finally starting to pay off.

They found Jiraiya as Neji had left him, lounging in the sun. He got up for them, though—or for Orochimaru at least, laughing and catching his old friend in a bone-crushing hug. Rather awkwardly, Orochimaru patted him on the back, an expression of distaste on his face until Jiraiya had sat back down on the chaise lounge. Orochimaru sat as well, pale skin a counterpoint to Jiraiya's dark tan.

After they'd exchanged the usual inquiries, Jiraiya's expression turned slightly more serious. "So what brings you out to my neck of the woods?"

Orochimaru heard Sasuke shift a bit behind him—just the slightest jingle of a buckle—and smiled thinly. "Most likely the same thing that brought that pretty Hyuuga boy out here."

Jiraiya nodded. "Madara." Sasuke, much to Orochimaru's pleasure, was still. Jiraiya's eyes did not flick up to look at the young man, although he was well-aware of Sasuke's family.

"He worries you, too?"

Orochimaru shifted this time, not comfortable with divulging such information. "On a profound level, and not just this marriage he's contrived."

Jiraiya shook his head, reaching over to the table and extracting another manila folder, substantially thicker, but he didn't hand it over right away. "You noticed them too, then."

"Noticed?" Orochimaru laughed, a sound that got the attention of every woman in the pool area. "Jiraiya, they all but announced their presence."

"And you think they're connected to Madara?"

"There's no doubt in my mind. They showed up around the same time, and only after Madara was humiliated by Hiashi."

Jiraiya handed over one folder then, watching as Orochimaru flipped it open to the first of many black-and-white photos, written reports, and evidence collected at the scenes of the various crimes that had occurred in that period between Madara's ignoble banishment from Hyuuga Tower and Hiashi's caving in to the request. "That's everything we could get. Thank whatever's holy that the guys over at the sheriff's office know me so well; otherwise I wouldn't be able to get any of it."

Orochimaru had flipped to a grainy picture of two men; one with long, light-colored hair, and the other with slightly darker short hair. The still had been taken from the surveillance camera inside a truck stop where two of the trucks that had exploded had been parked. "And have any of these men been identified yet?"

"We're working on it." Jiraiya nodded at Sasuke. "Why don't you set your boy there on it? He's an Uchiha, and they seem to be on the up lately; between his family and your company backing, he'd have access to the police records and outstanding warrants."

"Sasuke-kun is needed for more important tasks."

"I can't imagine what would be more important than this, Orochimaru." Jiraiya's expression was serious. "We were only kids when all the shit went down with him the first time, but I still remember the fear…"

"Enough." Orochimaru looked disgusted. "I take it from your dissemination of information that you've a plan in mind?"

"Of course." Jiraiya's smile was confident. "When haven't I?"

"The question ought to be when have you had a plan that's worked…"

"Aw, come on, Orochimaru. Some of them have worked. We're where we are, after all."

"You, a playboy…"

"I won't get picked up for stalking now."

"Feh…" Orochimaru snapped the folder shut and handed it to Sasuke, who took it without another word. "Take that and wait by the car, Sasuke-kun." They both watched Sasuke go, Orochimaru with much more interest than his counterpart. When the Uchiha was out of view, he turned back to Jiriaya. "Are you going to give me details of your idea, or do I have to disinter it myself?"

The other man's laugh echoed across the yard. "The great Orochimaru, asking _me_ for advice?"

"Of course not, you idiot!"

Jiraiya's guffaws subsided after a moment, and he tilted his chin in the Sasuke had gone. "Why don't you talk to your boyfriend?"

"Sasuke-kun is _not_ my—"

"He will be soon enough, the way you look at him." Jiraiya's gaze was serious now. "His uncle wants you dead, you know. I'd watch him, no matter how much you want him in bed."

The dark-haired man stared across the pool, expression stony. "Sasuke-kun will not betray me," he said, with an air of confidence born of pride. "Regardless of what you, or Madara, think."

Jiraiya hid the worry for his old friend beneath a smile. "Well, you always were the smartest of the three of us. I don't think any kid is gonna get the best of you." Orochimaru smirked at that, pleased, and Jiraiya looked away. The man had always been tempestuous, as long as they'd known each other. "Just be careful. He's a smart one too."

Orochimaru made a dismissive sound and rose, looking down at him. "So what did you give the Hyuuga?"

"What he asked for." Jiraiya smirked. "Come on, Orochimaru. Money buys silence with me. After all, I must continue to live in the style to which I am accustomed." The look he got made him burst out laughing again. He was still laughing as Orochimaru stalked off through the house, brushing aside the girls who appeared to take him out to his car.

"What took you so long?" Sasuke asked in a haughty tone of voice. He was sitting in the passenger seat already, one hand on his sword, the other lightly grasping the file as they pulled away from the house, and took off back toward Oto District.

Orochimaru ignored the question and glanced over. "When was the last time you spoke with your brother, or the Hyuuga boy?" Orochimaru asked thoughtfully. He caught Sasuke's odd look out of the corner of his eye.

"Itachi is constantly with my uncle," he said stiffly. "I want nothing to do with Madara, therefore I will have nothing to do with Itachi."

"Unfortunately, with this wedding, or whatever it is, it will be unavoidable." Orochimaru nibbled at his lower lip, considering many things. "Perhaps it would behoove you to re-open lines of communication between yourself and your brother."

"Why? Does it have something to do with what's in here?" Sasuke waved the folder at him.

"That remains to be seen."

The Uchiha made a noise. "I hate it when you talk in riddles."

* * *

"What is it?"

Neji pushed the folder across the metal tabletop, watching as Itachi opened it and began leafing through the contents. "History; the most interesting is in this second file I've made." He tapped it. "Case files, photocopies of police records, emergency call transcripts. All dated forty years ago."

"What was the incident?"

Neji shook his head. "I can't tell. Parts of it have been blacked out. I checked the file number on Banner CourtConnect, and it turned up nothing. I think the case is too old to be in the system."

They sat outside at the same café they had met at often before; the traffic going by masked their conversation, for which they were glad. Their clothes they could easily check for bugs, and the farther from Konoha district they got the more secure they were, but being in Suna was no guarantee that the people sitting at the table nearby wouldn't turn them in for a generous cut of cash.

"So," and Itachi took a sip of his tea before closing the folder and placing it neatly between them, leaning forward and looking at Neji with a long, speculative look. "What happened forty years ago, that involved our families, Hebi, and the government?"

After a moment's consideration, they both leaned back, a look of comprehension on Itachi's face, a look of annoyance on Neji's. "Your uncle," the Hyuuga said. "Why did I not see the connection immediately?"

"Stepping back and considering all the data objectively is a difficult thing," Itachi said delicately, and masked a smirk in a polite cough when Neji's steely glare was directed his way. "Either way, we do not have all the information. Here…" his fingers indicated a blacked-out portion, "And here, are paragraphs referring to the actual incident that caused Madara to flee the city. They are blacked out."

Neji pulled the folder back toward him and leafed through the pages, frowning at the amount of black ink that obscured parts of the story. As he leafed through, he noticed something else. "The page numbers jump," he said, looking at one page, then another. "There are ten pages missing—forty-three to fifty-two, which includes…" he went back to the table of contents, "…the property sheets. The evidence they took in relation to this case. I wonder…"

"These are just copies, right?" Itachi was looking at one of the pages that had information blacked out, running his finger over the dark lines of ink. "Whoever blacked this out did it on the copies and not the originals."

"So if we can go in and get the originals—"

"—then we'll be able to have all the information."

"Provided they haven't destroyed it by now. Forty years is a long time."

Itachi waved the copies. "They have this much."

"But who says that's all of it?" In the end, they agreed to get into the property room at the city sheriff's department, and see what they could find. It was decided they would try legitimate means first; on his BlackBerry, Neji fired off an e-mail to Jiraiya asking if he could be put in touch with the contact at the Sheriff's Department.

The rest of their conversation was much more relaxed, full of their usual repartee and discussions on the fast-approaching wedding. Both of them were to be in the wedding party; the color scheme was red and gold, obviously the commingling of Uchiha and Hyuuga symbolized. They'd been fitted for tuxedos of white imported silk; Itachi, as an Uchiha, was to be in red, and Neji in gold, each escorting a lady of the other family down the aisle. That itself promised to be a walk, as the ceremony was being held in the huge temple in the heart of the city.

The only thing that called them away from their deserved respite was the near-simultaneous ring of their phones, a summons from their respective family heads.

"I am not paid near enough for this," Neji muttered, tapping a reply out on the little keypad on his and slipping it back into the holster.

"I am not paid at all, so you should count yourself lucky." Itachi pulled his car keys out of a pocket and nodded to the manila folder. "May I have copies of those?"

"If all goes according to plan, we will have the originals, and you won't need the copies. But I shall scan them and send them to you."

Neji took off suddenly when they stood, the business he was needed for apparently very urgent, and Itachi paused opening his car door to watch Neji's Lexus pull into traffic and speed off. The roof was down, and the Hyuuga's hair whipped around his head like a corona in the wind of his own passing. It was quite an image, and one Itachi meditated upon even after he'd reached the Uchiha tower and pulled to the curb. Hebi's limo was there too, and as Itachi handed his keys to the valet he saw Sasuke getting out of the limo, looking flushed. They climbed the steps together; Itachi threw a glance back over his shoulder at the limo, and thought he caught a glimpse of a pale visage watch them through the window.

"Does Orochimaru-san treat you well?" he asked Sasuke.

"Yes, he is a knowledgeable man," the younger Uchiha replied, and looked over at his brother as Itachi held the door for him. Whatever he saw on Itachi's face made him break out into a grin. "You were with Neji again, weren't you?"

"That is my business."

"I know you meet with him in Suna."

Itachi stopped, pulling Sasuke back to look at him seriously. "How do you know?"

"Orochimaru-san knows the café owner."

The relief must have been evident on Itachi's face, because Sasuke's grin got wider. "You don't want Father and Uncle Madara to know. You don't want them to know that you're meeting with a Hyuuga and talking about—"

"Enough, Sasuke." Itachi strode off toward the elevators again, this time making Sasuke jog to keep pace.

"I've heard the tapes, you know," he said cannily as they got into the elevator and Itachi keyed for his apartment floor. That smile, Itachi decided, was entirely too much like Orochimaru's. He must remember to keep a closer eye on the activities of the two when he could, and made a mental note.

"Have you now," he murmured.

"Orochimaru-san says that you sound like you're _besotted _with him." He stopped, looking at how his brother's face was schooled. "You are, aren't you?"

"I am not _besotted _with Hyuuga Neji."

"You are!" Sasuke crowed, and Itachi cringed.

"Keep your voice down."

"Don't worry, I'm jamming the microphones." The look of triumph on Sasuke's face was almost unbearable. "I knew it."

"You may think as you wish." The doors opened at last, several moments too long for Itachi's comfort, and he stepped out, ignoring the chattering of his brother who was telling him to get back in the elevator. Once in his room, Itachi changed quickly into a more formal suit; black, red shirt, white tie. His hair was combed again and tied back neatly, before he went up to go meet with his father.

Predictably the top office was a hive of activity. Madara was off to one side for once, conferring with the team of wedding planners they'd hired for this event. Itachi found his father quickly. "You asked to see me, Father?"

The strain was evident on Fugaku's face, and with a shock Itachi saw that the years had begun to show on his father. Where Madara was young-looking and vibrant, Fugaku looked older than his years and older than an Uchiha ought. "Itachi," he said quietly, giving a dismissive nod to those who he'd been talking to and pulling Itachi over. "Per your uncle's wishes, you are going to be placed with the Office of Investigations for the city. I know you intended to join a law firm, but…" he sighed softly. "You understand that this is what you must do for your family. Uchiha needs to show that it cares about this city, especially now."

Itachi was only listening with half an ear. Investigations worked very closely with the Property department, if he remembered correctly, and since Fugaku was talking as though it was a done deal, he would be able to get into the files without much trouble.

"I understand, Father," he said, bowing. "Thank you for this opportunity."

"You will still need to be fingerprinted and so on," he said, absently. "Formalities. You have already skipped a six-month-long hiring process. And Itachi, I expect you to help further the Uchiha name with the influence you will hold as an Investigator."

"I will do so, Father."

"Excellent." Fugaku glanced up and saw Madara making a beeline for them, and smiled thinly. "Do not do all your uncle asks, Itachi," he said, and then Madara was there, his smile charming as always.

"I must leave," he said. "Hinata-san is at the tailor, having a dress fitting, and I promised to pick her up and take her to—lunch, will it be?" His rich laugh cut through the normal chatter of the office, which faltered a moment but kept on buzzing. "I do lose track of the time when working on these things. Not much time left until the day itself."

"Are you nervous, Uncle Madara?" Itachi asked, affecting concern.

"Not at all." That smirk made Itachi's skin crawl more than seeing his little brother wearing Orochimaru's grin. "I'm looking forward to it all, of course."

* * *

Hinata saw the Superleggera pull into the clothiers' shop courtyard; the building was designed in an old-fashioned way, with four wings around a central courtyard. Access was through one gate, and cars parked around the cobbled circle. Madara parked behind her cousin's Lexus; the Hyuuga watched as he got out and locked the door, then disappeared from the window's range of vision. Neji noticed her sudden coloring and raised an eyebrow, from where he'd been flipping through something on his BlackBerry.

"Is something the matter, Hinata-san?" he asked.

"Madara-san is coming," she said, blushing further. It faded when Neji's face took on that set look, so like his uncle's, that he wore every time the older Uchiha came around. "I c-can tell him we're too busy for me to g-go out with him…"

"No, it would not do for you to deny him," Neji said. There was more than a hint of resignation in Neji's voice. "I will tell Hiashi-san."

"I'll call him from the c-car," Hinata said, feeling more confident now that her cousin had given his grudging approval to the outing. "Madara is taking me to—"

"It's all right, I'll tell him. He cannot say much." Neji quieted, and stood as Madara swept into the room and went straight to Hinata. A strange light flashed in his dark eyes before it tamed as he placed a demure kiss on her cheek.

"How goes the fitting?" he asked, stepping back to take in the dress. It was a beautiful thing, surprisingly simple for the extravagance the wedding was going to be; a strapless gown with beadwork and embroidery at the waist, and a long train with embellishments that mirrored that on the waist and neck. He admired it on her for a moment before turning his eyes back up to her. Neji turned away, knowing this play for what it was.

"J-Just fine," Hinata said, smoothing the gown over her thighs with nervous hands. Madara's boldness always left her a bit shaky. Bold he was, too, coming up to her again and kissing her full on the mouth this time. A wave of heat washed over her, and Hinata stepped back shyly. "Is everything all right, Madara-san?"

"Oh, don't be so formal with me, please." His fingertips brushed her cheek. "We've no need of it."

"S-sor—"

"Don't apologize either." Madara smiled, stepping down off the block Hinata had been standing on. She held in a sigh; his body had been pressed up against her, warm and solid and _very_ male. His hand still grasped hers lightly, much larger than her own; it could swallow her fist whole and have room left over.

"What do you think?" she asked at last. He looked her over again.

"It is a lovely gown," he said at last. "Very simple lines, but then again, you need no embellishment."

Neji coughed, and rose off the couch. "I have a meeting," he said vaguely. "I entrust her to your care, Madara-san." With a bow, he left quickly. Hinata's gut twisted—meeting, in Neji's terms, usually meant a client.

"I will say it again," Madara murmured. "Your cousin's talent could be better suited to other ventures."

"Father knows," Hinata said softly, and looked over at the tailor. "A-are we done now?"

"Yes," the man replied, smiling. "I'll have it done by the end of the week."

"Thank you," she replied, and grasping Madara's hand tightly, stepped down off the block and gathered the long skirt up in one hand. The fullness of the gown nearly filled the changing room, but she managed to slide it back into its dust cover and dress in street clothes again. Tying her hair back in a quick knot, she found Madara talking easily with the tailors. They were laughing at some joke of his.

When he was like this, Hinata thought, she could ignore the fact that his laughter never reached his eyes.

They left the tailor and zipped across the city (she would never get used to Madara's driving habits) to dine on the waterfront, watching harbor seals and seagulls eating scraps the fishermen tossed into the water while they cleaned their catches.

"Hinata?"

Abruptly she realized she'd been daydreaming and smiled timidly at her fiancé. "I-I'm sorry. I was watching the seals," and she gestured at one that was swimming by them, looking up with big eyes. "They are v-very graceful in the water."

"That they are. It is their element."

"I'm sorry about my cousin," she murmured, picking at the tablecloth. Madara tilted his head curiously, which she took to mean he wanted more of an explanation. "He is protective of me. He has been since he knew he was destined for learning—the—what he knows."

"Surely you were not meant for the same fate?"

"Oh, no." Hinata pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "F-Father and the others put too high a price on my v—" She stuttered over the word, and looked up at Madara, trusting he knew what she meant.

"It has ever been that way among families such as ours." Madara set his teacup down, toying with it a moment. "Hidebound, hm?"

There was an echo of something else in Madara's voice that Hinata couldn't place, and not for the first time, she wished Neji would share whatever he knew about Madara that made him keep the man at arm's length. "Yes, that is a good term for it."

* * *

Neji bowed low. "He will keep his contract with us, Hiashi-san."

The Hyuuga head nodded. "Good."

In the weeks that had passed since the public announcement of engagement, worry lines had begun to show up on Hiashi's face. Hyuuga aged well—whether through some quirk of genetics or through excellent care, they appeared youthful well into their fifth decades. Hiashi was barely into his fourth, and yet Neji could see that his face was softening with wrinkles, that his skin appeared paler than was canon for the main Hyuuga line, and that his obi was tied a little tighter than usual. The effects of this whole affair were wearing heavily on a man who did not know what would become of his position. He held court over a circle with an uncertain future; his daughter marrying into the rival family, his youngest showing signs of being ineligible for the job, and his brother's son's body bearing the memory of dozens across the city.

"Is there anything else you require of me, Uncle?"

Hiashi's hair had not lost its luster, however. A Hyuuga's hair was often their pride. "Neji-san, you know I would leave the company to you and retire, do you not?"

Surprised, Neji shook his head. "I was not aware those were your wishes, Hiashi-san."

"They are," Hiashi murmured, "And yet I cannot enact them." He sighed, looking more tired than ever before. "Now my eldest daughter becomes an Uchiha in a month, my youngest sharpens her knives, and my nephew continues to be used by everyone around him." A long silence. "How did it come to this, Neji?"

"What fate has wrought for us is not given out to know freely," Neji murmured. "If it were, things would be too easy."

Hiashi laughed softly. "You are right there." Turning, the Hyuuga stared out the window. "You are your father's son."

Something in his stomach twisted. Neji's memories of his father were few; he remembered a deep, rich laugh, full of love. Hair like his own, caught back in an elaborate clasp he remembered playing with in chubby little hands. Had his father known he would become this?

Hiashi appeared not to notice Neji's silence. "I cannot tell you to protect Hinata; things are now beyond that point. Promise that you will look after her?"

He thought about Madara at the tailor today, and the way his eyes had held that disturbing glimmer as they beheld Hinata in her gown, and about the information that he and Itachi would uncover from the Sheriff's Office.

"On my father's grave," Neji said, meeting his uncle's eyes. "I will keep Hinata safe."

The smile he got was grateful. "Thank you," Hiashi said, his cool returning after that bare moment of weakness and admission. "That will be all."

In the distance, thunder rumbled across the city.


	8. Chapter 8

At the top of the Hebi Corporation tower, Orochimaru sat, alone. Sasuke was not there at the moment; he'd had a fitting for his tuxedo and had to spend the afternoon in the company of his family. All things considered most of the time the Uchihas were not bad companions, but…

His eyes flicked to the manila folder, inconspicuous among others of its kind on his desk. He had requested an appointment with Neji, but it was later in the week, and deep down the idea that he did not have all the information rankled the CEO's nerves greatly. Orochimaru liked to be in control, and right now, it was that lecherous oaf of a friend of his who was pulling their strings.

And it was Madara who had swept into the office, stepping heedless over the venomous snakes Orochimaru allowed to slither around his office, and commissioned a piece of music to be performed at his wedding. A man of many talents, he had called Orochimaru, with that damnable smile on his face. Orochimaru had returned it with his best chilly smirk, and accepted the assignment. After all, it was not often he got to write music anymore; but now that he had the blank score open on his computer, his muse simply wasn't speaking to him.

The wedding, scheduled in three weeks' time, was to be a lavish affair by all accounts. Madara had money and to spare, and was going all out on this; every florist in the city had had an order put in for red and yellow roses, decorations and party-planning companies were hired to bedeck the temple in the city center with red and gold—everything. There would be a procession from each tower down the central street to the temple. Hinata would be conveyed in a covered carriage drawn by a team of four white horses; Madara would ride into the temple itself on a black horse he had had flown in from wherever it was he'd lived prior to returning to the city.

Not to be outdone, the Hyuugas were kicking in funds of their own (how much of that disposable income was Neji's doing he had no idea; the young Hyuuga now commanded a much higher compensation to the Hyuuga family in order for his services to be rendered) for the receptions—multiple events across the city. The main one was to be held in the ballroom of the City Government building, with the guest list to the event reading like a list of the entire world's notable dignitaries and celebrities—and kingpins, but the official title was 'entrepreneur' and nobody cared enough to correct it. It would have a small orchestra, among other things, and the catering was to be done by a five-star chef. And that was just the one at which Madara and Hinata would actually be in attendance at for most of the evening, though they'd put in appearances at all the rest.

It was an occasion that would doubtless require the right kind of musical accompaniment. Tensions across the city were still high; terrorist attacks, although not on the caliber of the ones that had been going on two months ago, continued. They were targeting specific establishments that catered to the lowest rung of the ladder upon which Uchiha, Hyuuga and Hebi stood. The terrorists—seldom seen—were called vigilantes who perceived themselves above the law. Not only that, but tensions in the two families involved were running high. Orochimaru got the distinct feeling from Sasuke that Madara was not well-liked among the upper echelons of the Uchiha family, and particularly not by its older scion, Itachi. He had recently joined the Investigation Bureau, Orochimaru recalled. Nonetheless Madara seemed drawn to the older of the two boys, often spending time with him. Neji, for his own part, was just as collected as ever, but there were rumblings. There were always rumblings, and any piece Orochimaru wrote would have to reflect all of them—the ones that held any grain of truth, anyway.

"And with our meat, we'll have stronger wine," he murmured, and rested his hand on the mouse to begin.

Madara would have a strong theme—martial, for the man's tendencies. A march, perhaps—yes, that would be perfect, since he was riding in like a general at the head of an army on parade. His horse high-stepping, the man would think himself a god.

That would become a well-stated, driven theme for the two heads of the families, Fugaku and Hiashi. Fugaku would be in the wedding party, and Hiashi would ride to the temple with his daughter and walk her up the aisle. Orochimaru wondered briefly on how it would be to knowingly hand your daughter off to a man like Madara, and was once more grateful he did not plan to have any children whatsoever.

A gentler theme for the two Uchiha brothers, with a strong roll on the timpani for Itachi the heir-apparent. They deserved no less—Sasuke in particular, laboring forever in his brother's shadow and yet a light bright enough to rival Itachi. Madara certainly had no trouble blatantly using them; Sasuke had, with a great deal of disdain, shown Orochimaru the bug that he'd found in his suit coat. Absolutely no finesse.

The Hyuuga theme would be driven by strings and flutes, creating an airy, ethereal atmosphere. They were the rival of the Uchiha family for beauty, with their pale eyes and rich brown hair. Two flutes would rise above the main theme, one playing in a lower register for Neji and the second in a higher for Hinata. Slowly, Neji's theme would die away, and be replaced with Madara's—Hinata's flute still rising above the march.

It would be an epic work, and as he laid notes to the screen, Orochimaru felt a certain degree of pride. Under it all, there would be a lingering dissonance. Madara would not miss it, he was quite certain, and if he did, Orochimaru would be very disappointed in his own ability to read people—which was, of course, infallible.

He was interrupted several hours later by one of his personal assistants scurrying in. "Uchiha Sasuke arrives," she announced breathlessly, flushed. "I should warn you, Orochimaru-sama, he's in a foul mood."

"When is he not these days?" the CEO muttered. "Thank you, Karin."

She bowed and left, stepping over the snakes. Orochimaru saved his work on the music and mentally steeled himself. In these situations, Sasuke was more difficult than usual, and he would need his wits about him.

* * *

The Spyder hummed under his hands as Itachi guided it through afternoon traffic, on his way back to work after a tuxedo fitting that Madara had made the whole family come for. He'd purred up in his Superleggera of course, towing along a very ill-tempered Sasuke who had been denied the freedom of his motorcycle. Fugaku had driven Mikoto and a cousin, Shisui, in the Bentley. Itachi had been offered that particular car but turned it down in favor of the little red sports car, which he vastly preferred. In contrast to a Mitsubishi, there was little you could do or want to do to a Bentley to make it—well, streetworthy, in a sense, and woe betide him if Fugaku ever found out about _that_ part of it.

Investigations wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, either. Since he was new, most of the paperwork came his way, and while he would rather use the badge he'd been sworn to, Itachi understood the necessity for the older members of the Bureau to harass him a little bit. He would stand up to them if the need arose, but for now he was content to hang back and observe. After all, his training had been for the courtroom, not this aspect of the judicial process. The Uchiha wondered how much of his getting this job was because Madara wanted someone on the inside of the police force.

Showing his card to the guard at the gate, Itachi drove into the employee parking lot pondering what had occurred when he'd gone over to Property to request evidence and records pertaining to the case number found in the file Neji had gotten. They'd had them still, all right—but the case was sealed, and he wouldn't have access unless he had permission from the city mayor himself. Itachi doubted that the mayor would ever grant permission, given that the case concerned someone related to Itachi and thus to the Uchihas. And Jiraiya's contact in Property couldn't risk releasing anything further without being found out.

He and Neji would simply have to get in somehow, by less-than-legal means. Well and so, he'd done as much other times; they both had.

Itachi allowed his mind to wander to thoughts of the Hyuuga as he walked across the asphalt to the big marble building. Neji was still a puzzle to him, and the confusing (and frankly alarming) things that his mind connected to the younger man were no help at all. Since Sasuke had dangled it over his head, he had made excuses not to meet at their usual place, and Neji had been accepting, if chilly. But the effect of forestalling further meetings was that his thoughts went off in the direction of Neji more often. Admittedly it was an effect he had not foreseen, and had no idea how to counter or assuage without meeting the Hyuuga again, and why it was out of the question to do so was another thing that Itachi did not know. When it came to Neji he didn't know many things, come to think of it.

Slightly irritated, Itachi swiped his access card and nearly ran face-first into the gate—it opened slower than usual. Stepping through the gap he stalked back to the office and got back to work.

Inevitably, his thoughts came back again to Neji, and their plan. He was certain it could work, with the financial backing of someone insane enough to go against Madara. Jiraiya had already sworn against it; he was only an informant, nothing more, he'd said. So that left a very short list indeed, Itachi thought as he toyed absently with his phone. He would have to meet with Neji and—

"Not at the café," Itachi murmured, and read over a scene report from an investigator.

* * *

They would have to find somewhere else to meet, and that was that.

With only a small exertion of willpower, Neji put the phone down and stepped up onto the block to let the tailors fuss over his tuxedo. As they did he let his thoughts wander, and as they often did, return to the thing that he had been discussing with Itachi for several months now.

The café was no longer entirely safe, he had learned that much from Itachi. Orochimaru had the owner paid and the place bugged, and an idea of this caliber couldn't be allowed to reach the wrong ears. Granted, Orochimaru seemed to harbor a strong enough dislike of Madara for things not to matter too much, but in this city, one couldn't be too careful. Care, he thought, was something they had been entirely too careless about.

One of the tailors accidentally stabbed him with a pin and he winced, glaring at the offending man, who apologized profusely. It was determined that it was a small puncture and no harm was done after all, but Neji took a certain satisfaction in the way everyone scurried around after that. It was, he felt as he dressed in his street clothes again, partly frustration and tension. Everyone was, and those who were in the know realized that this could all spell a large amount of trouble for all of them.

The problem was that nowhere in this city was safe. If it wasn't the Uchiha, Hyuuga, or Hebi, it was any number of smaller families—the Inuzuka, Aburame, or the circles that were loyal to people like Jiraiya or Tsunade. They would be followed if they drove together anywhere, and walls had even more ears to hear than nature did, although meeting outdoors somewhere could be a temporary fix. But if their plan was to succeed, they would eventually need a permanent base of operations, as they would eventually require an expansion of personnel in addition to purchase of equipment and weaponry. That, they would have to do quietly and slowly; large shipments of weaponry tended to bring questions.

But that would all be resolved later; they would have to first resolve other issues, and wait for the outcome of these next few weeks, to determine how they were to proceed.

"Sir?"

Neji snapped himself back to the real world, looking down at the tailor quailing next to him. A stab of guilt hit him; this man didn't deserve to be collateral in the war between his family and Madara. "Yes?" he asked gently.

"We'll have it ready in a week." The man was uncomfortable.

"Thank you." Neji stepped down and handed the unfinished suit jacket off to the tailor, heading toward the changing room.

Back on the road, he thought again of the plan he had helped contrive, and again of the man he had contrived it with. Perhaps part of his ill mood was the fact that they were making no progress at all, had indeed not met for some weeks. His patience with the Uchiha was wearing thin.

The wedding was not going to be delayed or stopped, that much he knew. But married life for Madara did not have to be roses, and if they could find anything on him, well, so much the better. They had the information, they had a way of getting to the root of all this—so why did they not proceed? That brought up further questions that Neji did not like to think on, as it should not have mattered to him that he proceed with the Uchiha. He'd thought to write it off to the fact that they had mutually come up with this plan and to execute it one-sided was more than a little fucked, as it were, but after meditating upon that Neji had come to the conclusion that it was more the involvement of the other in general—the contact, the fact that they just seemed to _get_ each other far better than their families did—that mattered.

He wasn't an idiot; he'd long since realized he enjoyed Itachi's company beyond what was considered friendship or even collaboration standards. And yet...

As the elevator, rose, Neji watched his reflection in the glass, superimposed over the uchiwa, and felt as though he were being kept in a glass-walled cage; able to see out, but allowing nothing in and no escape. It was not a thought that was unfamiliar to him.

* * *

"You're distracted."

Neji looked up from where he'd been in rather close contemplation of the thread count on the sheets, and met Orochimaru's eyes. The man was stretched out, sinuous, under the flat sheet of his ridiculously large bed (it was larger than a cal-king mattress; who needed beds this big?). The sheet was of a very fine satin and hid very little, and apparently revealed even more. Now, he went over his performance in his mind, from the moment he had been led in here to the sound of the last condom being thrown into the trash can. The older man had certainly enjoyed him enough. Neji could find no fault in himself, and now wondered if Orochimaru would demand a different deal; less money, or more sex, or both.

"Pardon me?"

Orochimaru opened one eye, a slit of gold and white appearing. "Oh, make no mistake, you were as satisfying as you've always been, beautiful boy…" his hand stroked Neji's thick hair idly, and the Hyuuga submitted to it. "Nonetheless, you were obviously not as focused on your work as you usually are. It lacked a certain facet that I have always found so alluring in you."

"I do beg forgiveness," Neji replied a bit acidly. The pale man chuckled.

"No need to be caustic with me. I merely wonder what it is that has the so-perfect Hyuuga _distracted…_"

"I suppose you would be the authority on distractions, Orochimaru-_sama._"

That made him laugh out loud. "I would be, wouldn't I?" He smirked again, still toying with Neji's hair. "All the same, I do wonder what it is you two have concocted exactly."

"Do you expect me to tell you? That was not, I believe, part of our agreement." He nodded to the folder with the copied documents in it, copies of those that Neji and Itachi had been given by Jiraiya and augmented by what little Itachi would squeeze out of the property room.

"Sticking to protocol, really?" Orochimaru made a rather devious face. "Strange for one skulking about behind his family's back with the heir of the enemy."

"Uchiha," Neji said delicately, "Is practically family."

"I hear the ceremony's going to be of special magnificence?"

Neji sighed. "Uchiha and Hyuuga have spared no expense. It is the most important event in a lifetime; we would want to be remembered for it."

The CEO hummed and slid off the bed, walking over to the smaller glass desk he kept in his room, and Neji could not help but admire him naked. For being in his fifties, really, he was very fit. "And how will you be remembered, I wonder?"

"As with everything, that remains to be seen."

* * *

Deidara's pacing was, Sasori thought, going to drive him utterly insane. The blond had made over two hundred passes, and if he made it to three hundred, Sasori was going to reach over and smack him upside the head and tell him to sit down. He was getting dizzy.

"How goddamn long is he planning to keep us sitting on our thumbs, huh?" Hidan muttered from a table and chairs near the window. The penthouse they were in was posh, and slept all of them easily, but after a week even this much space could seem oppressive.

"He knows what he is doing," Pein said. He and his partner were apparently oblivious to their co-conspirators' aggravation, and sat calmly on couches. Konan was reading. "We must trust his judgment in restricting our activities."

"I'm bored, un," Deidara whined, finally plunking himself down in the middle of the floor. His face was screwed up in annoyance, hair loose across his shoulders. "I can't even throw firecrackers on the leash he's got us with."

"We stick with the plan."

"What, lay around until he starts turning the city upside-down?"

"Fucking bastard," Hidan shifted his scythe from one hand to the next. "Doesn't understand we can't take this shit."

"You mean, you can't take this shit," Sasori calmly corrected. "The rest of us—well, save Deidara, due to pure idiocy—seem to handle it just fine."

"Soon enough," Pein cut in, holding up a hand to forestall Deidara's loud protest. "Soon we'll be able to demonstrate our true power. All of you, calm down."

* * *

Tsunade thought of herself as a fair woman, or liked to anyway. She imposed laws, managed the everyday upkeep of the city, and made sure that things were in general order. In addition she asked for, and received, cuts from every business deal that went down in her district, giving in return the protection and, occasionally, the blind eye.

Lately, however, things had been getting out of hand. She was more than certain that the recent terrorist attacks were the work of one of the bigger powers in the city, and while she couldn't pin it on anyone in particular, given the situation at current she had been able to make an educated guess, which happened to be walking through her door right now.

"Tsunade-_san_," Madara greeted her, bowing so slightly. He was dressed sharply; a crisp black suit with a red shirt and white tie, the prominent colors of the Uchiha clan, combining with he who was the perfect specimen. On anyone else it would have had a most impressive effect, but with Tsunade, it only garnered him a look. "So glad to see you in such fine health."

"I couldn't be anything else, even with this depression that's been sitting on top of the city for days," she replied briskly. "Would that it rained or went away, hm?"

"Indeed," Madara said, smiling in that way that made her think of something dangerous and crawling, ready to lunge out for her. "Would that it did something, rather than nothing."

There was so much loaded in that statement that she refused to even touch it, and gestured to one of the fine chairs in front of her desk. "Sit down, Madara."

He did, gracefully as he did all things, and watched her as she walked over to the minibar. "The city is still in turmoil, Tsunade-san—surely, though, you see that? The weather is merely reflecting the mood; anticipation."

"What would we be anticipating, other than your—wedding?" She'd almost slipped there. Studiously she put in more of the strong liqueur she'd been adding. "To Hinata, isn't it…"

"I believe that is the bride who appears on the wedding invitations," Madara replied delicately. "I seem to remember you are attending the ceremony and reception?"

The man's memory was just too good. "That's right. Though I'm at a loss as to what I could get you for a gift." That last was said icily. Madara was richer than the rest of his family combined; there was absolutely no reason for him to be receiving as gifts Aston Martins and Bentleys and tracts of land when he had that sex toy on wheels. Much to her annoyance, Madara's laugh was indulgent, as though he'd known she wouldn't be able to do so and was humoring her now by deigning to help.

"No, there is not much we require for our married life, is there?" he said, pushing thick black hair out of his eyes. "Nothing most are capable of getting us, in any case."

Tsunade bristled but kept her cool. There was little point in chastising Madara, who simply would not care if she did or not. It was so much easier to ignore him; he would, soon enough, be gone from the city, surely, with his new wife in tow, and—

"There is one thing," Madara said, voice as slippery as silk. Tsunade felt a chill.

"Oh?" she replied.

"One, small thing," he said, and when he looked at her his eyes were quite strange. "I want you to hand over control of the district to me."

She revised that opinion of his eyes to read 'insane'. "What makes you think, Madara, that I would do such a thing?"

"It is only my due," the man replied, leaning forward. Tsunade held her ground, though the look in his eye was growing more and more toward the 'murderous' end of the spectrum and she began to wonder if she should have him removed. "Do you not remember what your grandfather did to me?"

"I remember quite clearly," she said in a very tight voice. "But that was forty years and more ago—"

"It matters not!" he said, suddenly rising out of his chair, the calm demeanor he always wore beginning to crack. "Your grandfather ruined me, he did, and I had to give up everything I had worked for because of his meddling! I built my family, this district out of _nothing!_ Konoha would have been leveled and claimed by one of the other districts if it weren't for me!"

"You forfeited your right!" Tsunade's voice stopped him in his tracks, his eyes turned black with rage narrowed and glaring at her. "Your treachery, _your_ conspiracies were what forced my grandfather's hand!" She looked at him, jaw set. "He would have had it another way—"

"Lies!" Madara spat. "Hashirama wanted the power for _himself_—he couldn't bear thinking that a member of the underworld would share power with him. Your grandfather—" and he pointed an accusing finger at her, "Was a man who would have given his life to see those of us who keep this district afloat sent to prison. Can you imagine that?" his voice was sarcastic now. "Can you imagine the district being what it is without the support of my family, of Hyuuga even?"

"My grandfather very nearly did give his life," Tsunade replied caustically. "Or did he wound you so badly you've forgotten the fighting in the streets? Konoha was a battleground, and it was your doing. If you hadn't been spirited off by your supporters we would have killed you."

"And you would like that, wouldn't you," Madara hissed. But slowly, slowly he gathered himself back in; it was almost scary, she could all but see him locking himself down. In a minute, his expression was that same amusement, as it always had been. "But I do ask your blessing upon my union, that is all. I should think that for all you say now, you would look for a little more peace in your backyard."

With that, he got up and left her office. She could hear him snapping at his two escorts, and was inwardly glad that he was not totally crack-proof. But something would have to be done about him, and no mistake.

Didn't the heir apparent to the family work for them? What an ironic thing, she thought, as she pulled an official investigative order form toward her and uncovered a pen from the mess on her desk. Ironic, and very, very useful.

An hour later, Itachi appeared in her room, holding a crisply folded sheet. "Tsunade-sama," he said, bowing. Tsunade rather liked this young man; a pity he came from the wrong family. Itachi was polite, and at least had a proper respect for authority, she thought.

"Yes, Itachi," she said with a smile. "Please sit."

He did so, in the same chair his uncle had been in an hour prior. "I received your orders, Tsunade-sama."

"Thank you for telling me in person," she said facetiously. "Most simply e-mail me."

He cleared his throat. "I must ask you to pass this assignment on to another investigator. I am too involved with the subject."

"Involved? How so?"

He gave her a look—it was probably inadvertent, but obviously was meant to ask her if she was stupid. "I believe they are related to me," he replied.

"And that is precisely why this assignment went to you and not to anyone else," she said. "You are in a position to get close to them, and to make a record of their plans and doings."

"You wish for me to spy on my own family?" Itachi asked, incredulous.

"Not spy," she said. "Simply tell us the most important things."

He swallowed, and for a moment Tsunade felt bad for him. It was clear he was torn on this, between doing the duties of the job he was hired for and loyalty to his family. At last he nodded. "I will do it, Tsunade-sama."

"You will be rewarded," she said sincerely. "A large bonus at the end of the assignment, and a raise. I will see it done personally."

"Thank you," he said softly, turned on his heel, and left.

* * *

Itachi took the rest of the day off of work, driving aimlessly around the city with the top down and some obnoxious music of his brother's blasting from the speakers. Every so often his fingers would tighten on the wheel, and a black rage came up, thick enough to make him choke.

How dare she give him this assignment, ask him to cross his own family? What was the point of it at all?

The little folded paper bearing his orders fluttered in the wind made by his passing, and for a moment Itachi contemplated letting it fly off into the streets. My apologies, Tsunade-san, I can't complete the assignment. The wind took it.

How _fired_ would he be? How far from another clue to his uncle's past would he be?

Turning off the main circuit road he drove off out of the city, passing slums and suburbia and traveling out along the coastline. Here it was rocky, but there was a large bay with a fishing village, and it was here that Itachi would go sometimes, when the skyscrapers pressed down on him and made it difficult to breathe. Sometimes, Itachi thought, he wasn't made for city life, and although he could not imagine another way, he would want out. Would he beat his fists again against the glass walls of his enclosure, until they were bloodied and his will to fight was lost?

He shut off the music, and drove the rest of the way in silence. The sea air felt clean against his skin, whipped his hair into a mass of tangles. When he reached the boardwalk parking at last, he stopped the engine and lay back, staring at the sea and taking deep breaths until he was calm. Only then did he get out and walk down to the beach, zipping up the jacket he wore to his chin as the chill wind caught at him. It still went right through the fabric anyway, but the act of closing himself against the cold made him feel marginally warmer. A sympathetic reaction, he was sure. Nothing more.

But when was anything as it seemed? Itachi took off his shoes and socks and sat on a driftwood log, pulling his knees to his chin and wrapping his arms around them. The waves beat on the shore, a steady progression that made a dark crescent on the small sandy beach and splashed against the rocks of the jetty that protected the harbor. The boats bobbed slowly, tall white masts reaching like bony fingers into the sky, the stunted trees on the bluffs above like skinny fists grasping for heaven.

Hours he sat there, lost in thought, watching the sea sucking backward as the tide ebbed out. People came and left, and nobody paid any heed to him, not even a sideways glance. Here he was nobody, and he liked it that way, not being judged and categorized for being an Uchiha or any of the other things he was. A pity, he thought, that he could never erase the stamp of his family upon him. Even if they were dead, he would still be singled out.

And even if he were to deny the assignment, to be dismissed from the investigations team, it would still be carried out. Someone else would be given the duty. Someone else's blood would redden the marble steps in front of the tower. He really didn't have any choice in any of that, but he did in other matters. Better to focus his efforts there, and for that, he needed Neji, and his brother's teacher.

The first call would not be so hard, he thought, as he dialed his brother's cell phone. It wasn't difficult to tell that Orochimaru hated his uncle (the why of it escaped Itachi, but that wasn't necessary to his purpose at the moment), nor was it difficult to tell that he had loose cash and nothing to lose that he couldn't regain.

_Itachi? What are you calling me for?_

Sasuke sounded as though he'd been in the middle of something—slightly irate and pouty. "I need you to do something for me. Is Orochimaru-san around?"

_Yes… why?_

"Put him on, if you please." He would just have to ask about the guilty note in his brother's voice later.

_So nice to hear from you again, Itachi. Are you well?_

"I'm busy. I need you and Sasuke to meet me at the town of Kai-on-the-Sea. Do you know where it is?"

_I am familiar. _Orochimaru had the wary tone in his voice now. _What is this about?_

"I will explain when you arrive. One more thing—Neji will be waiting outside the Hyuuga tower. Pick him up." Before Orochimaru could register any protests, Itachi hung up and dialed in Neji's number. It rang—twice, three times—

_Hello?_

"It is Itachi—"

_I know._

"My brother and Orochimaru are coming to pick you up."

There was a short silence. He could imagine Neji's expression at the moment. _Where, might I ask, will we be going?_

"Somewhere outside of the city."

_Where?_'s

"Kai."

Another short silence. _How long do I have to get ready?_

"About as long as it takes to get from Hebi to your tower."

_Rather short notice._

"I had an idea."

_Obviously. I will be ready._

Itachi was not too cautious to let his pleasure at that statement show in his voice. "Goodbye."

* * *

"You're out of your goddamn minds."

Neji blinked, and Itachi arched an eyebrow. Orochimaru glared between them both and ignored Sasuke's incredulous look. He'd dropped a garlic fry from the greasy food stand across the boardwalk from where they leaned against the sun-warmed wood, and a seagull grabbed it. He quickly picked up another and crammed it into his mouth, and Itachi had to suppress a snort when Neji gave Sasuke a disgusted look.

"Do you hear me?" he continued. "The both of you are _insane._ There's no way this could work, not against a man like your uncle."

"Nobody's tried it against my uncle before," Itachi said. "Little brother, go get a napkin from the stand. You've grease all over your chin."

"Shut up It—"

"Oh, it's been tried." Orochimaru shifted his weight onto one leg and held up a finger. "Tsunade-_hime_'s grandfather tried it, and the district was nearly torn to bits because of it. Madara fled but nobody could completely finish the job, and Tsunade said the Senjuu had top men working on it."

Neji's voice was suspicious. "Who, precisely."

"Top men."

"We don't know if they were telling the truth. In any case," and Itachi kept his gaze leveled on the older man, "We don't have all the information yet, and you do—well, as much as we've been given by Jiraiya-san, who seems to be pulling all of our strings."

"Everything goes through Jiraiya at some point." Orochimaru waved a hand. "Do you have any idea what you'll need if you even want to have hope of being successful?"

"A secure, secret place to meet," Neji said, "Weaponry, a team, hardware—and a financial backer."

"You need someone to hand you cash and see what you do with it," the Hebi leader grumbled. "And that is where I figure in to your little mutiny?"

Itachi's voice was dry. "Precisely."

Orochimaru looked between them again. "I'll consider it. Does that assuage your minds at all?"

"Close enough. Little brother, a napkin, you are covered in grease and you will break out if you don't clean it up. I do not want to deal with the whining."

Neji snorted and wandered off in the direction of the beach. Itachi let himself be distracted a moment while Sasuke sputtered in rage, watching the wind whip Neji's hair to one side, blow his clothing around as he leaned on the very edge of the boardwalk and looked out over the expanse of sandy beach with a curious look on his face. It was a very idyllic picture.

"Well, you wouldn't anyway!" Sasuke was shrilling, face flushed. "I've been staying with Orochimaru for the last five days!" And he stomped off, feet thudding on the boards, to go get a handful of napkins to wipe the garlic fry grease off his face. This left Itachi and Orochimaru, who was now looking unhealthily smug.

Itachi had not had to deal with the Hebi leader often, but he was certain that that expression meant nothing good for him.

"Five days?" he asked, the eyebrow going up again.

"If you assume anything different than what you already are, you aren't as quick as I thought you to be," Orochimaru replied. The smug look intensified. "Sasuke-kun is the one who suggested it. I merely gave him a push in the right direction."

"You are old enough to be his father—"

"Depending on generational length, grandfather—"

"That does not help your argument." Itachi allowed himself to smile, letting this next thought form in his mind. "But I do know your histories, better than I know my uncle's. If your tendencies become apparent, remember only that I do feel my brother is the only one in my family worth saving, were the Uchiha tower to be burning down."

With that he left and followed Neji, who had moved down the steps to the beach and sat now on an outcropping of pitted sandstone. He looked out of place, with his fine tailored suit, sitting kicking his feet against the rock. In the sun, his skin glowed fair, and his hair (he had tied it back) shone with care. Itachi sat beside him, close to cut down the wind's chill. The pleasant tension in his belly was back; it was like a wire that connected the two of them, and that was pulled taut the nearer they were to each other.

"Do you know," Neji said at last, "I've always wanted to come to the ocean without my family. I like watching the sea birds." He was quiet. "I like the balance in places like these."

"I think we should meet here until Orochimaru agrees."

"You believe he will?"

"I do not doubt it."

Neji looked over, head tilted curiously. "What was it you said to him? I could see you talking, but the wind took your words away."

"A little friendly banter."

Neji smirked. "Right." He turned to look back at the brilliantly blue sea, watching the surf, the green and the white foam spreading across the sand, darkening, and then returning to lightness.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: The end of this chapter contains three scenes insinuating things of a sexual nature. I'm sure some of you have been waiting for this.

Also this chapter is extremely long.

* * *

"And one, two, three, four!"

The dancers swirled, shoes clicking on the marble floor. The music swelled, and Itachi let himself be lost in it—not the same as the pumping beats in the clubs that they had been to all-too-frequently in these last two weeks leading up to the wedding, but that mattered little. Hanabi was light on her feet and followed his lead easily. There was a slightly annoyed look in her eye. He couldn't blame her, really; he'd been a mortal enemy until Madara fooled with things, engaged himself to her sister, and forced them to dance together at this rehearsal of the wedding ceremony and the bridal party's dance.

"Ouch!"

The music cut off and Itachi looked over. Sasuke was glaring at his pretty Hyuuga partner, who looked as though she wanted to run away. In the center of the circle of dancers, Madara was stepping back from Hinata too, hand resting on her hip. She pressed a little close to him, and Itachi's jaw tightened. She really didn't know what she was getting into, he thought, watching her smile up at him and Madara lift a hand to brush hair back from her face.

The dance teacher swept over to see what the matter was, and as Sasuke's voice rose in protest, strident, Itachi felt the disinterest returning. Hanabi shot him a look from her place in front of him, sniffed, and stepped back. He gave her a long, level look, and she sneered.

"Your brother's a total klutz," Hanabi hissed.

"Only when he's dancing properly," Itachi replied, and instantly kicked himself, as Hanabi puffed up a bit in superiority. Why had he been partnered with the one _truly_ nasty Hyuuga?

"You're not any kind of twinkle toes either," she said. He sighed. They'd had this conversation, or one similar, every time the music stopped. It was beginning to get on his nerves.

"You're not going to get a rise out of me, Hanabi."

The whole thing was becoming more and more like a stage production. The only thing was, most plays had a moral they wanted to get across, a point. What was the point of all this? To show that their families could throw more money into one event than most city-dwellers saw in their lifetimes? He wouldn't put it past Madara; the man was the very definition of grandstander.

"Again, please!" the teacher called. Hanabi stepped forward, distaste evident in her eyes. "One, two, three, four—"

The music began again and light on their feet, Itachi and Hanabi swept off. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Neji partnering a cousin of his, brown hair whipping around him. A sudden stab of jealousy, hot and sharp, hit him in the gut. Neji and Aki looked good together, Itachi told himself. Besides that, he had no real claim on the Hyuuga. Let Sasuke have his fun. Let Orochimaru give him significant looks whenever they would all meet for another discussion of the fast-growing plans. It was all dependent upon Neji, and thus far, the Hyuuga had shown less interest in him than half his own female family members.

Either way, it was difficult to see Aki dancing so naturally with the younger man, her dainty, pale hand clasped in Neji's. He remembered the last club they'd been dragged to; it seemed the only time he could stroke a reaction out of Neji was when he'd been plied with drink and led to the dance floor. There he lost inhibition, and the impress of the Hyuuga against his body, those same hands grasping onto him, was still very vivid in his mind however much he tried to push it away.

Hanabi cleared her throat, and Itachi's attention snapped back to her. She fixed him with a very icy glare (made colder by the chilly pale grey they were) and muttered, "I know you look at my cousin. Hinata told me, and I see you every time we go to the clubs. You get him drunk."

Itachi sighed. "There is no harm in looking."

"But there's harm in doing." Her hand tightened, and a somewhat sadistic grin curved her lips up. "None of your family are good enough for us."

He stared down at the girl, unsure what to say. Fortunately they were currently dancing beside Hiashi and his partner, some cousin of his or another. "Hanabi," he murmured warningly, "What have I told you?" She pouted, but save for a parting glare was silent the rest of the time, for which Itachi was most grateful. He didn't think he could take more of her causticity.

When they finished, Itachi walked towards his Spyder in the garage, rooting in his pocket for his keys, lost in thought. He was interrupted by a pair of khaki-clad legs, leaning against his car.

"Itachi."

He looked up, meeting Neji's eyes. His were darker than Hanabi's. "Neji?"

"There's an outing tonight. It's one of Orochimaru's clubs, Reverberation. We are requested to make an appearance."

"When are we not?" Where the hell were his keys?

Neji's smile was wry. "Do you mind if I ride with you? I've had enough of my family for the evening."

"Not at all." Unearthing his keys Itachi unlocked the car and got in. Neji slid in gracefully—well, he was never ungraceful. It was a trait that had been assiduously cultivated in him, Itachi was sure, and with an uncharacteristic bout of bitterness put the car violently in gear and tore out of the garage. Beside him he could see Neji's fingers gripping the seat a little tighter than normal.

"Do we have a deadline?" he asked at last, a bit of a bite to his tone now.

"I don't want to delay; we should go in and leave. If we're left alone with my brother and his… his teacher for too long with too much to drink, someone is going to say something. We do not need to be uncovered the night before the wedding."

"You could drive a little slower," the Hyuuga muttered, but stayed quiet the rest of the time. Itachi dutifully slowed.

The club, thankfully, turned out not to be one of the bump-and-grind places they'd been frequenting but a classier, jazzy club. They were expected to sit at tables covered with white linen tablecloths and eat food prepared for them by world-class chefs while listening to far more appealing music than the waltz or the electronica that had been pumped into them. Itachi was able to halfway enjoy himself—moreso, as the seating was strictly two to a table, and by virtue of their arriving together they were seated together.

Unbeknownst to the Uchiha, Neji was using this as an excuse to eye him, size him up. It was an unfortunate holdover from his clientele, and whenever he had caught himself doing it with Itachi before he'd stopped, ashamed. Now though he was doing it to truly try to get an idea of the other's potential prowess. He'd already felt the hair and the body—many more times than he would have chosen for himself, but there was little complaining done when he'd had four shots of vodka in him and the music was sounding liquid to his ears. Hinata had noticed right away, and she'd told Hanabi, but neither of them had mentioned Neji's interest to Hiashi—something for which he was eternally grateful. He didn't think his uncle could stand another relative of his falling for an Uchiha.

The singer, a pretty woman who was (if he remembered correctly) some old flame of Orochimaru's, came onstage now, to loud applause. She was a favorite with patrons of this place, and flashed a dazzling smile at them that seemed too feminine for her. With a curvy figure and hair that looked to be silky as his own under the glare of the lights, Neji could understand why Orochimaru would keep a woman like Mitarashi Anko around. That became even more apparent when he got a good look at the sticks that accented her hair, twisted up onto her head. It was faint, but his keen eye picked out the beveling to a sharp, keen point. Senbon, then; beautiful, and deadly. Looking at Orochimaru, seated in the place of honor with Sasuke beside him, and Madara and Hinata beside _them_, Neji could not help but think that Orochimaru liked to keep such people around him for a reason.

"She has a lovely voice," Itachi remarked. Neji looked over again. The Uchiha was rapt, dark eyes watching the woman.

"I doubt Orochimaru would pick anything but the best," he replied. "And she was hand-selected, or so I am told."

"He does have an eye for talent."

Neji looked away, fingers coming up to rub at the concealed manji in irritation. Orochimaru had oft spoken of his talent, and he did not need to hear the same words from his partner in crime. "It is his specialty."

Up on the VIP dais, Orochimaru stood when Anko finished her first number, catching her eye. She smiled up at him, pressing black-gloved fingers to her lips in a secretive gesture. It was not a sincere one; Anko hated being kept on the leash he had her on, but Orochimaru was rather glad he'd kept her. She had her uses, even if they included only sometimes lover. And he could practically see the sulk coming over Sasuke's face. Inducing jealousy in the Uchiha had its advantages, and usually he'd have reaped them right away, but Sasuke was going to have to stay at home tonight, and awaken early for his preparations. Anticipation was as almost as keen an edge as jealousy was.

"She was flat," Sasuke muttered as Orochimaru sat again on the couch. "First line of the second verse. She was _very_ flat."

"She probably knew." Orochimaru crossed his legs, arm stretched out along the back of the couch above the young Uchiha's shoulders, and picked his drink up off the little table in front of them. "You can tell her tomorrow. She _is_ my date to your uncle's wedding." That elicited another huff, and Orochimaru let his hand dangle a bit, fingertips pressing against Sasuke's shoulder. "Don't get overwrought. I must have one, and you have to spend most of it with your partner."

"She's almost as timid as Hinata," Sasuke grumbled. "I think she thinks I'm going to drag her off and rape her."

"Nonsense."

"She _does…_"

On the couch beside them, Hinata flushed. She wasn't that timid, was she? She'd been better about it.

Madara felt her clamming up a little and tilted her chin up with his fingertips to look at her. "Nervous?" he asked. His voice was that soft pitch that sent chills down her spine, barely audible over the song playing now.

"A-ah… a little," Hinata replied, smiling a bit. Madara leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"Don't be. Everything will be fine."

* * *

Against all odds, the day of the wedding dawned bright and clear. For the first time in two months, the clouds rolled back (though they lurked around the outskirts of the city, as though waiting for something) and the sun shone down on the streets. It was still hot and sticky, as Itachi found when he went out for his morning run, as Neji found when he took his tea out to the balcony. But at least it was sunny. It is always a comfort to humans to have the sun beating down on them, even though it may be on the last day of the Earth.

Madara roused the tower early. He was in unusually good spirits; nobody had seen him this pleased since he'd gone out to pay a visit to the district head and come back in a foul temper. As he showered after his run, Itachi wondered if Madara in such a gleeful mood was such a good thing. It seemed to bode more ill than the perpetually gray skies.

Neji drove Hinata to the hairstylist after she had showered and dressed in loose, comfortable clothing. The top was up this morning despite the sun, as Hinata didn't want her hair mussed. Neji didn't mind. He was in a dark mood this morning, and a sense of foreboding settled across his shoulders as they walked through the murky, heavy air. His cousin seemed less worried. Hinata had her own reservations, of course, but it was her wedding day. She was happy, and watching her as they drove, she with a little smile upon her face, Neji resolved to try to be happier for her. His mood was somewhat darkened when the hairstylist cooed over his own hair too, petting the long perfect fall of it. Neji did not like others touching his hair, and so he deftly pulled it out of her hands, coolly replying that he'd take care of it himself.

"Neji-nii…"

He looked up from his book. "Yes?"

The hairstylist had gone to the back and left Hinata with half her hair in curlers to sit for a while. They were alone; Hiashi had seen to it that the bridal party would be taken care of elsewhere, so that Hinata's nerves weren't completely frayed by the time she got back to the Hyuuga tower to be dressed. It wouldn't do to have the bride get stage fright, not during a production like this.

"Ne… does i-it hurt?"

Ah, _that._

Neji took a deep breath, thinking on how to couch this. His own first had been less-than-kind—he a commodity, rather than a treasure, no matter what his clients would say. He was to forever be able to deliver, thinking never for himself or his own pleasure. He could only hope Madara was different with his cousin, though something about the man's nature made him doubt it. "It will not be pain-free," he said, quiet. "And you will have to make sure he is careful with you at first. Do not be afraid to speak to him boldly."

"He will be," she replied. The note of fondness in her voice made Neji look up; she was smiling a little. "Madara is deep down a k-kind man, I think."

"I hope you are right," he muttered. Things he knew about the man told him otherwise.

"Neji-nii…"

He looked up, and Hinata was holding her hand out to him. He took it.

"I w-will always be glad I have y-you too," she said, softly. "I d-don't need to fear anything a-as long as I know y-you will come keep me safe."

Neji smiled. "All you have to do is call me," he replied. "I will do everything in my power to rescue you from trouble."

The hairstylist returned, and the moment was broken, but a soft glow remained in Neji's chest. Of course he hoped it would never come down to him needing to rescue Hinata, but if it were necessary, at least she knew he would move the heavens and the earth to do so.

* * *

While Hinata was having her hair done, Madara was swooping around the tower, supervising its preparations. The groomsmen were assembling in the head office when they were ready; Itachi and Fugaku and Sasuke were first of the eight that Madara had chosen. Sasuke was having his hair fussed with and looked murderous; the stylist was attempting make the back lie flat, and he (and, incidentally, his hair) was having none of it. Finally after a few minutes of his sulky muttering and the hair's intractability, she shrugged and blew it back to its usual style, then took a flat iron to his bangs. Itachi's hair was still warm from the thing; he had to admit, it looked sleeker for it, but he wasn't going to spend twenty minutes every morning with it.

"Itachi!"

He looked up from the book he'd been reading the last few days. It was some science-fiction novel that Sasuke had ordered him to read, and he had to admit it was one of the more interesting ones his little brother had thrown at him. Would that he could dream a different world than this, like the character of the book did, and wake up to find it was true…

"Yes, Uncle?"

Madara swept over as Itachi stood up. The older man was vibrant, dapper in his suit (not a traditional tuxedo, Madara never could do anything normal), and obviously rather distracted. For once Itachi could sympathize; Madara had an operation not unlike a multimillion-dollar movie going for this day alone, and being the perfectionist he was, it would be ruined if but one thing were not utterly flawless. "Is everything ready?" he asked, absently fussing with Itachi's coat.

"Father, Sasuke, and myself are. The other five are coming up in a moment."

"Excellent, excellent… and the Hyuuga?"

"As far as I know, they are on schedule as well. They know the processions will begin at ten o'clock." Eyeing his uncle, Itachi cleared his throat. "Neji-san—" he had to be careful not to address the other too casually "—says that Hinata-san looks beautiful."

"Of course she does." Madara waved his hand; that was a given. The next group of groomsmen were coming up from the elevator, and Madara glanced at them before turning intense eyes back to Itachi. "Could you go down to the garage and make sure that Al-Shetan is being saddled and will be ready at the appointed time?"

With a nod, Itachi stepped away and walked over to the elevator. Behind him, he could hear Madara going after the new arrivals, and sighed. It was going to be a long day.

The elevator took ages to get to the garage level, during which time Itachi sent another enquiry to Neji regarding Hyuuga's preparations, and received a response saying (in somewhat terse terms) that they were simply waiting for Uchiha to be ready. He smirked and slipped his phone back into a pocket. That kind of caustic attitude was what was sorely lacking around here; if any Uchiha had the balls to be snappy when Madara was within hearing range, this place would be far more interesting.

* * *

Hiashi finished buttoning up his tuxedo jacket and looked at himself in the mirror, leaning on the vanity. His shoulders were stooped already, and he felt the weight on them like a palpable thing. It was hard enough to stand up straight normally, but now, not even Hyuuga pride could be the comfort it used to be. Two months ago he had been a man at the head of a ring that had a bright future; two promising candidates for replacing him, a potential third (if Hiashi had his druthers he'd do away with the rules that only permitted Hyuugas of the main line to become head; Neji was more than capable). And that way at least he could claim a legitimate Hyuuga heir. As it stood, any children that came of Hinata's marriage would replace him, most likely. Although those connected to Madara had a curiously high mortality rate. He hoped, to any deity that would listen to him now, that such would not be Hinata's case.

Now he had silver streaks through his hair that hadn't been there three months ago, when Madara had waltzed back into the city and upturned their lives. His faced was lined, and his body thin. He was a man without a solid rock to stand upon.

"Father?"

Hiashi turned and smiled at Hinata. He would try to be happy for her, at least; she was radiant, if nervous. It was her wedding, and no matter how much he loathed her husband-to-be, she would still have his support. Always.

"How are you feeling, Hinata?" he asked, coming to sit beside her on the chaise lounge. She was running her gloves between her hands, and he took one, holding it tightly.

"I-I'm fine, Father." She smiled back, pale lavender eyes blinking a little rapidly. "N-nervous."

"Don't worry." He glanced at the clock (quarter after ten) and stood again, offering her his hand. "It'll all be all right."

As they went down in the elevator and he helped Hinata into their conveyance, at the head of the gleaming column of limousines blazoned with the golden sun, Hiashi could still feel the worry gnawing at him, though. Through the gauzy curtains he watched them all, watched the drivers shut the doors, and tried to smile genuinely.

* * *

Orochimaru was climbing out of the SUV he'd been chauffeured to the temple in at the same time Jiraiya and Tsunade were getting out of Jiraiya's surprisingly sensible BMW and handing keys off to the valet. A moment later he snorted derisively as three girls piled out of the back and attached themselves to his old friend. Tsunade looked like she was about to have kittens, he thought smugly. Teach the playboy to bring his toys here. "The man has no sense of propriety," he muttered to Anko, who was dressed in a pretty burgundy gown with a low back, hair tied up as usual. She hadn't wanted to be taken along, and had been sullen and silent during the ride over, but he trusted her to at least be charming. She had a way of getting others to talk.

"For that matter," she replied, "Neither do you."

"At events like these—"

"Hey, Oro!"

After submitting to an ego-bruising, bone-crushing hug, Orochimaru dusted off the sleeves of his purple kimono and raised an eyebrow at the scantily-clad gaggle of women following the other man. "Must they come?" he asked, as Anko placed her hand on his arm again.

"Come on," Jiraiya laughed and held an arm out to one of them—a perky redhead. "Don't be such a tight-ass, Oro."

"This is a _wedding_," the dark-haired man hissed as they showed their invitations and were admitted to the temple. "Not some gathering of the league of morons. And quite possibly it's the—"

"I _know."_

The serious tone in Jiraiya's voice made him look over—and surprised Tsunade, apparently, as she stopped glaring at the girls. Jiraiya's expression was intense as they sat—Tsunade on one side of Jiraiya, Orochimaru on the other, their various hangers-on and attendants one row behind them next to a man with violently blue hair. But it wasn't the rustling of the slowly filling temple that had their attention.

"I've my own life riding on this whole thing," he muttered. "And the lives of others dear to me." He looked between them, and then broke out into a grin. "It's foolproof, my plan," he said, chest puffing out.

"Except for the fool who created it," Tsunade muttered, but when she and Orochimaru locked eyes behind Jiraiya's massive head of hair, she was serious.

* * *

The main routes for the parade had been blocked off, and at precisely the appointed time, Madara mounted his horse and trotted smartly out, a grand smile on his face as he waved to the people of the city who had come to see the procession from the Uchiha building. There was much cheering; most saw this as a sign that peace was to come to the city, and reached out to touch the flanks of Madara's horse whenever he would bring it over close to the railings. It was quiet underneath him, occasionally tossing its mane proudly and prancing, but moved forward with as much purpose as the man astride it.

And above the crowds, above the arched neck and high-stepping hooves of his mount, Madara smiled. Things were coming together nicely.

* * *

Once all the guests were inside, the foyer became a flurry of activity. Bridesmaids called for their partners, who were trying to organize themselves as they had been told at the rehearsal. With thirty-two of them all told, there was more than a little confusion. Madara was still astride outside the temple, trotting his horse to calm it before he would ride it into the building. Through the huge windows Itachi could see him. Wherever he had learned to ride a horse Madara was a natural at it, sitting as though the last six inches of his spine was a spring and moving as naturally as though he were part of the animal. His hair flew out, as inky as the mane and tail of his steed.

"Ready?" Fugaku whispered, as the ushers prepared to open the doors. Itachi held his hand out, and Hanabi placed hers in it, the other grasping the skirts of her pale golden gown so she wouldn't trip. Behind him, Itachi could hear Neji murmuring to his partner, and Sasuke's low grumble.

The sound of shod hooves on marble rang out and Madara rode up past them, tall and proud, and the ushers opened wide the doors to the temple chamber as the first strains of the march that Orochimaru had composed for them rose above the murmuring guests.

Four pairs back from the head of the column, Sasuke had much more time to take in the sight. The temple was a beautiful building; a huge glass dome let natural light in to the chamber, and stained glass windows along its high walls cast colored lights on the now-standing guests. He could see Orochimaru's black head, applauding politely as Madara rode up the aisle; beside him the tall white-haired Jiraiya and the shorter, blond Tsunade. Fugaku and Mikoto were next. Sasuke thought his mother looked beautiful in her ruby-red gown, pale skin and dark hair accented perfectly; she was acting as mother of the bride. Ahead of him Aki smiled at Neji as they walked forward at last, her long, dark hair swept up into an elegant coif. They would have to change again for the reception, into more proper evening wear. The celebrations would extend long into the night, culminating around two in the morning with a great fireworks display.

"Come on," his partner muttered at him, and Sasuke stumbled as she yanked him forward, the smile plastered on her face like a sticker. Feeling somewhat like a dog on a leash, Sasuke put one hand behind his back and held hers out in the way they'd practiced (over and over and over) as they walked down the long aisle. It seemed miles from the double doors to the altar, as he passed a sea of light-skinned, dark-haired faces that he knew and didn't know. He passed Orochimaru, on his partner's side, and threw him a glance. Last night's teasing was not forgotten, not by a long shot, nor was the fact that Anko was his 'official' date. Never mind that Sasuke would be expected to sit at the high table during the dinner, next to his partner, and Orochimaru would be at one of the lower tables.

At last they were at the front row, and both knelt to the icons above them, bowed to each other, and went to stand in their respective places. Madara smiled thinly at him as he passed. Sasuke ignored him.

From here it was easier to see the crowd. Everyone seemed very attentive, but the way they were craning their necks showed Sasuke they were waiting to see what kind of entrance Hinata would be making. He hadn't seen her when she'd arrived to the temple, but those who had said she was beautiful as she should be. For a moment he bristled; being an Uchiha, he was used to being the center of attention, but he'd agree that against people as beautiful as Neji was, it was easy to get confused. And then he watched, as Orochimaru had taught him to.

As Hinata entered the temple chamber, even Madara's lips parted a little; he had seen beauty, surrounded himself with beautiful people and lovely things, but for the moment, at least, they all paled. Gone were her shy blushes and downcast eyes, and the smile on her lips was not a nervous one, but one of a woman. Hinata was every inch a Hyuuga, and those in the audience sighed at how beautiful she was.

For her, the walk up the aisle seemed to stretch on forever, the faces of people she did not know passing her by on either side. But at the end, when they had at last reached the first row of seats and Madara was holding his hand out to take hers…

Hiashi took her hand off his arm and placed it in Madara's. The two men exchanged a look, and then Hiashi stepped back, going to sit with the others. With their hands joined, Madara and Hinata ascended the steps to the altar, and knelt.

The ceremony stretched on, prayers and chants going to heaven like the curled smoke of the braziers burning incense. The smell of it was cloying and heavy, but for all that the chamber was full to capacity it remained cold inside, as though those in attendance were already dead. At last, as he stood there, Sasuke detected a slight shift in the guests' positions. It was like the rustling of students' papers and notebooks just before a class was due to end. Taking that as his cue, since they had to process back out, the younger Uchiha stood up a little straighter.

Beside Orochimaru, Jiraiya watched as Madara slipped the ring on Hinata's slender gloved finger. He had originally hoped that he would never have to see this, but things being as they were, he had to hope that his friend, and the two younger men to whom he had entrusted the Task, could carry out what needed to be done.

Hiashi had to look away as the priest chanted the final blessing, and Madara leaned down and kissed Hinata. His daughter looked incredibly tiny next to the Uchiha, so easily taken advantage of, so easily broken just as everything Madara touched broke. When they pulled apart, Hinata looked over at him while Madara waved to the guests. He gave her a smile; for her, his beloved daughter, Hiashi would pretend to be happy.

* * *

The reception was just as Itachi had imagined it would be; a place to rub elbows and chatter mindlessly. Madara moved easily among the guests, Hinata at his side. She had changed into a different gown, he noted. The first one would be highly inappropriate for the dance number they were to perform after dinner. She looked happy at least, the gems in her tiara winking as she smiled and accepted congratulations from the guests. There were more people here than there had been at the ceremony, and the room was hot.

"Do try not to look so morose, Itachi," Madara had told him in the limo. His hand had been clasped with Hinata, but his tone was the same half-mocking, half-fatherly one that he had used with Itachi so very often in the last months. "You'll upset the guests."

"With the two of you to distract, I should be overlooked," he had replied. Hinata had given him an uneasy little smile. Itachi felt bad for her.

Madara tilted his head, that curious smile on his face. "You are an Uchiha," he said simply. "We are never overlooked. For my lovely new wife, will you?" He had brought Hinata's hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Itachi had nodded, agreed, and immediately gotten a drink upon their arrival.

Now he watched them, mentally writing his next dreaded report to Tsunade, trying to toe the thin line between betrayal and loyalty. Mentally, he was exhausted; even Sasuke had commented on it, that he looked more tired than usual. It was not easy to pass information on his family's dealings to those he worked for; if he was too choosy about what he included in his reports then Tsunade and her assistants would accuse him of withholding and protecting his family; if he put too much he risked including something truly incriminating. Though, that was really what they were after…

"Penny for your thoughts, Itachi-kun?"

Shaken out of his reverie, Itachi bowed his head slightly to Orochimaru. Behind him, the woman he'd brought as his date was flirting shamelessly with some of the junior advisors; Itachi sized her up and concluded she would be going home with at least one of them, if not in a group. Her laugh was light, evocative, stirring something even in him.

"It would take more than that to buy them."

The older man smiled thinly. "Your uncle does know how to organize a fete, I must say. I have given him his compliments as was proper, but…" he shrugged "I did seem to get a rather cool reception. Pray, may I have angered him?"

"I believe if anyone would know the answer to that," Itachi replied, taking a sip of his drink, "It would be you, Orochimaru."

"True." Orochimaru shifted his weight onto one leg. "That matter you asked me to look into—"

"Not here." Itachi shot the other a look, glancing at Madara who was making a beeline for them.

"Itachi, I thought I would find you hiding here, out of the spotlight." Madara nodded to Orochimaru. "That march you wrote was superb. I thank you again for your kind words to us as well, Orochimaru."

"Oh, I speak only the truth," Orochimaru replied, unruffled. "And as to the other matter of our discussion…"

"Of course, I would never block Sasuke-kun from continuing his studies under such a renowned teacher." Madara's smile sent chills down Itachi's spine. "Perhaps I shall even have a demonstration one day?"

"Perhaps." Orochimaru bowed his head; Itachi did too, and with nods to both of them Madara led Hinata off to talk to more of the guests that had arrived. They shared a look, and Orochimaru swept off again, collecting his date and heading toward the table laden with finger-foods and glasses of champagne. The tables were set; some were seated in their places already, cooing over the engraved place cards and the beautiful vases full of fresh flowers. Their scent was heavy as the incense had been in the temple, cloyingly sweet. Itachi made his way up to the high table and sat beside Hanabi, who, he was rather surprised to see, had champagne in front of her.

Noticing his glance, she sniffed. "Father always lets us have champagne on important occasions," she said archly. "It's the proper thing to do."

"He lets you get drunk?" Itachi muttered. Hanabi scowled at him and took up the bottle, pouring him a glass.

"Getting drunk is for bums and uncouth teenagers," she replied. "Hyuuga do not get drunk, unless you are a lowborn whore like my cousin."

He was about to retort when Neji sat on the other side of her, rubbing at the strip of black cloth that covered his forehead. "Enough, Hanabi," he snapped. "I believe Uncle Hiashi has chastised you for that more than once."

She glared at him. "I don't take orders from cadet family members."

"But you must from those who are superior to you. Might I add, your father has deemed it so—must I call him over?"

Hanabi stood up and flounced off, leaving Neji free to lean on the table and raise an eyebrow at Itachi. "I apologize," he said quietly. "You do not need to be drawn into Hyuuga family politics."

"Technically we are family," Itachi pointed out.

Neji looked at where Hinata was smiling, still shy but confident, her hand looking tiny on Madara's arm. "I would dispute that," he murmured. "I do not want to see this as valid."

"I know what you mean."

Neji sighed, watching as a waiter rang a silver bell, and the guests started filing to their seats for the meal. "Let us hope it does not come to any ill," he muttered, as Hanabi sulkily came back up to her seat, followed by an angry-looking Hiashi. The older Hyuuga put a hand on Neji's shoulder as he passed; it was small, but it was something.

When the guests were at last seated, Madara stood, glass in hand, and raised it. "We thank you all for coming today," he said. "I shan't delay you from the delicious meal planned for all of us any longer. To my beautiful new wife, Hinata, and to all of you." All around the room, there rose the sound of glasses clinking together, and then the dishes began pouring out of the kitchens.

Madara had not been lying, Itachi thought. There were first baskets of warmed bread and butter, which were gone by the time the dishes began coming out. Salads, savory meat dishes, pastas of all kinds. Normally not one with a huge appetite, Itachi surprised himself by cleaning his plate at every course. It was difficult to resist food when it was this delicious and this high class; for all that the Uchiha family was obviously wealthy and without a doubt powerful, Itachi preferred not to indulge in displays such as these often, though he knew the proper etiquette for it. In between each course, a little something to cleanse the palate, a glass of a fine wine, and then more food. By the time the desserts were coming out, beautiful tiny pieces of confectionery that were almost too delicate-looking to be edible to him, he was feeling quite full and wondering how he would be able to dance with a sack of rocks in his stomach. By the looks of it, most others at the table—even the princess that currently sat next to him dabbing at her painted lips with the linen napkin—were having the same sentiments.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he heard Sasuke mutter, and sighed. Well, he'd need the energy for tonight; after Madara and Hinata left, the reception would continue on with a much different atmosphere, and Itachi intended to take advantage of it. Hopefully more would be digested by that time.

It was another half an hour before the last dessert dishes were cleared; people were circulating around again. Most were glancing at the musicians filing onto the low stage set up off to one side of the polished dance floor as they talked. Neji sipped his champagne and watched, somewhat amused. This was an event quite unlike any he'd attended, whether with his family or on the arm of someone who had paid his price, and it was nowhere near finished yet. Sure enough, at about two-thirty the newlyweds took to the dance floor and the rest of them filed down, standing around the edges as the couple had their first dance together. It was a slow waltz, and they stayed close. Even knowing what he did about Madara, it seemed the man relaxed around his new wife, let his head fall forward against hers. It took a great deal for Itachi to remind himself that this was, as far as they knew, all an act.

After that it was time for the dance they had rehearsed. Thankfully, it went off without a hitch, and looking back afterwards, Neji realized that he couldn't remember most of it. It seemed he was outside himself, watching the sixteen pairs dance across the floor, listening to the music, rehearsed and emotionless. It became like the litany of filthy words he spoke to every client, the little games they played—the games they paid for.

He really wouldn't escape it.

At last that ordeal was over, and with a final flourish and a bow, they were allowed to depart the floor if they wished while the dancing was opened to everyone. The trays of finger-foods were back on the buffet table, along with little finely-sculpted creations of sugar, and Neji drifted off that way to where many of his and Hinata's mutual friends were standing. She had insisted upon their invitation, at least to the reception, and both Madara and Hiashi had caved. They had behaved themselves surprisingly admirably, though Neji had to suppress a chuckle to see Naruto, Kiba, and the others in tuxedos and gowns. Somehow, he was unable to see them outside the skimpy club wear or the work uniforms. They greeted him with smiles and chatter, the one out of place thing here.

At one of the lower tables, Orochimaru watched the proceedings. He'd taken Anko on a couple dances—she was pleasant to partner, despite her sharp tongue and the hateful glare she'd turn on him whenever he spoke—and now sat at the large round table, watching Jiraiya grope his way across the hardwood floor with one of the girls he'd brought. His assistant was off making noise somewhere, and Tsunade was schmoozing. She was far better at not being unsettling than either himself or Jiraiya, and having a chest the size she did helped significantly he was quite sure. Besides, they had all long known his strengths lay in observation, rather than interaction. And observing this particular wedding was proving to be very interesting.

There was still the undercurrent of distrust between the two families. For all that Madara had planned, he could not undo generations of propaganda in one go, and from the sound of it Orochimaru doubted he would try. Madara preferred to lead by example, in any case, but what example he planned to set was anyone's guess. He'd told Anko to go circulate around, make small talk, and keep her ears open. It was what she was skilled at. He was certain she'd leave in someone man or woman's car and return in the morning with her information, which bothered him not at all. Lately, Jiraiya seemed to have it all, and that irked him on a very personal level.

Beyond the mutual distrust, among those who had decided to try and get along, the sentiment of wariness regarding this marriage was strong. The Hyuuga did not like to see the heir-apparent married off to someone like Madara, who had an ill reputation, and the Uchiha did not like what Madara was changing within the clan. The infusion of Hyuuga blood didn't sit well with the purists, and the loss of a bloodline as excellent as Hinata's, as well as Hiashi's capitulation to the marriage in the first place, annoyed the Hyuugas. There was much talk even of repealing the old inheritance laws and making Neji heir, but that was little more than rumor and would, by all accounts, never happen. His usefulness was limited to assuring the clan's contracts remained in their interest, no matter how the daughters were married. Because of his training, more than his parentage (which was surprisingly well-regarded), he would never take the position of family head. Hanabi was the only choice left, and everyone agreed the money being spent so lavishly at this wedding would be better suited in sending her to charm school.

Strangely enough, there was also a faction of both Hyuuga and Uchiha who were happy to see this marriage. They generally felt it was long overdue that their families reconciled, and saw this marriage (and its subsequent offspring) as a chance for that. The question of children came up far more often than usual; in the case of Madara and Hinata, many people would not only be surprised but would lose substantial amounts of money if she did not become pregnant by the time the year ended.

All of it led to some very interesting possibilities, Orochimaru thought, ones that he could easily exploit if he were careful and used what was available to him wisely. One had to look out for one's own prospects in this game. If you lost focus for even a moment, you would end up a fossil.

And for the moment his focus was on the way that Sasuke's brother watched Neji; amber eyes picked apart every facet of Itachi's body language, of the way that he appeared nonchalant while being very interested in the beautiful Hyuuga, despite the slight clenching of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders. Once, Orochimaru might have wanted to put his hands upon that supple flesh and massage out the knots, but Itachi would have been no fun to teach, for the simple reason that he was not able to be molded to anyone's will save his own. Watching these two was fascinating, like watching the play of shadows upon a wall, or the confluence of two rushing mountain streams into a great and powerful river.

Ah, there! The barest flicker of a stormcloud-gray eye in Itachi's direction was the cue the other man needed. Orochimaru sat back in his chair, sipping a glass of champagne, to watch.

* * *

"You look bored."

Not really surprised, Neji feigned it as he turned round again, tilting his head up to meet Itachi's eye. He had to pretend there was no pleasant tension, no buildup of heat in his belly, a feat more difficult than it seemed being that the last time he had felt anything like this had been more than a year ago. That relationship, a kink in the long thread of his fate, had ended in disaster. Neji did not like to think of it, but after that he had carefully schooled his 'working' voice into a husky purr. It was what people wanted to hear. His voice—that which the other had called sweet, sad—was carefully put away, as the one thing he would keep from his work.

"I do not like gatherings such as these," he replied. "I have been to more than my share, and no matter how extravagant, they are essentially all the same."

"That's true enough." Itachi picked up his own fresh glass, trying to ignore how swiftly it was replaced by another and concentrating very hard on a man with bright orange hair and many piercings, who was accompanied by a beautiful young woman. He wondered idly if he knew them, then dismissed it. He had not had control of the guest list; they were probably friends of somebody, and it would have been a great insult to have left them out. "I apologize for my uncle putting you through this. He cannot help but make a statement with everything he does."

Neji cracked a smile at that. It was accurate, if a dire understatement. "At least the food is decent."

"It would seem so." Several hours after the reception had started, the food was beginning to dwindle, tables discreetly removed from the line as the dishes lessened. Not for lack of food; that would be a shame that neither family would live down. It was because, after Madara and Hinata left the reception (they wanted to do it in secret, for some reason) the space would be needed for the crush of bodies. The bar was hosted; he could see the deejay in the shadows, getting his equipment sorted. People from the other celebrations would join in here, the more distinguished guests would leave, and this party would continue well into the morning. Neji had plans of his own, secretly. It would at least relieve the symptom, if not the cause.

Itachi made a small gesture with his hand, and Neji looked out onto the dance floor where some of the guests had gathered around where Madara had Hinata's skirts up to her knees; she was bright red and looked about ready to faint as the Uchiha's hands slid the lacy blue garter off her leg. Neji tensed, not liking such a display in public, but Madara twitched her skirts back down and helped her stand, letting her lean a little on him as he turned his back and tossed the garter carelessly into the crowd of men. One, a Hyuuga, emerged triumphant. There was a raucous noise, and then after a brief conference Hinata was able to let go of Madara's arm and toss her bouquet to the ladies. This was much more vicious, it seemed. Neji was waiting for someone to yell for an ambulance when one woman came out, holding it in her hand and smiling broadly. Everyone applauded and the music got back underway. The man and woman who had caught something were pushed toward the photographer, and Madara and Hinata came toward them. Thinking they wanted champagne, Neji and Itachi stepped aside, but both were surprised when Madara tilted his head toward the kitchen door and made a gesture indicating they were to follow.

* * *

"Now, I have left instructions as to what I would like to have done by the time I return," Madara was saying to Itachi. They were behind the building, where all the cars were parked, reflecting the orange-tinted light. Hinata was already in the limo, waiting for Madara to slide in beside her so they could be taken off to the hotel they were staying in the night before their cruise ship left. "I expect them to be followed."

"Of course, Uncle, as you wish." Itachi bowed his head. The daylight was fading; it was around seven-thirty in the evening. Celebration still filled the city, evident in the honks and general aura of happiness. It had been a long time since Itachi had felt this coming from the citizens. "Is that all?"

"There is one more thing…"

He held out a slim plastic phone; it was the most generic thing Itachi had ever seen, more like the phones one could buy in drugstores and put minutes on than anything sophisticated. He pressed the 'Contacts' button, and was surprised to find several names and numbers that he did not recognize already stored therein.

"If… trouble should occur." Madara was choosing his words carefully, never a good thing. "Call the number under Pein and say exactly these words." He paused to make sure Itachi was listening before continuing. "The Black Company rides again, though its annals are long lost; who will remember the deeds of such men?"

Itachi committed it to memory and then looked curiously at his uncle. "What is this for?"

"I will tell you when I return. But speak those words and any trouble shall be taken care of, never fear." He smiled in that way of his, and stepped toward the door. "I must go now. I am sure my bride grows impatient."

Itachi could hear a soft sputter from Hinata and stepped back as Madara slid in, bowing as the valet shut the door and got back into the cab. The limo drove off into traffic without fanfare. It could have been any number of Uchihas inside behind those black-tinted windows.

"What was that?"

Neji had changed clothes again for the part of this celebration. Gray slacks and a black shirt, the top buttons undone; simple, and chic. It was an established look for Neji. He had put on a necklace that seemed to be made of hemp, with ceramic beads strung along it.

"Instructions for while he is away." Itachi slipped the phone into a pocket. "I should change as well. It's going to get hot, and I do not want to ruin this tuxedo."

Neji waited outside the small storage room Itachi had opted for instead of the bathroom, and went to stow his things in his bag and put it back in one of the other Uchiha limos. Itachi had gone more casual than Neji; a clinging black top and dark-wash jeans, in hopes of eliciting something out of the other. He got it, though he had to look hard the whole time for any signs that Neji was admiring what he saw. But anyone could, when he dressed like this.

The deejay had already begun to play, and the crowd was more made of the younger set. Most of the others were filtering out through the front, to their cars that were being brought around for them. The only ones that weren't leaving (and who had also changed at some point) were Jiraiya and his bevy of girls, and Orochimaru, who looked decades younger in a silver button-down shirt and black jeans. Beside him, Sasuke looked over at Itachi and Neji. Itachi shot him a warning glance before he and the Hyuuga were enveloped by the group, and hot, dancing bodies surrounded them. Neji was turning around, looking for—

"Should we dance?" Itachi asked, leaning forward to speak his question directly into Neji's ear.

Really, it would have been impossible for them not to. For a change, their motives were not to forget, but to remember, and remember well.

* * *

Hinata stood on the balcony, wrapped in one of the fluffy robes that had been on the chair in the bathroom. This was one of the nicest hotels in town; despite the fact that she knew Madara, the Uchihas, and her own family had plenty of money she still felt guilty for making them spend it all.

It was nice to relax though, after the stress of today. Madara had been whispering encouragement to her throughout the day, from the moment they walked down the aisle after the ceremony ended, to right before the last guest they talked to at the reception. That, she was convinced, was the only reason she hadn't shrank away into some quiet corner and trembled. He'd insisted upon room service, and after much badgering got the name of a rather tasty pizza place she liked. They had mixed drinks and pepperoni pizza, and watched science-fiction movies on the television. That had been nice, curled against his side listening to his laugh rumble up out of his chest at some joke, his arm around her. But she was still tense.

So she was out here, watching the lights on the water and listening to the sounds of the city. Every so often, there would be wild yells echoing across the water, accompanied by the sharp sound of firecrackers. It was like a holiday, but really, it was just her wedding. Her dresses were already hanging in a cedar-lined closet in the Uchiha tower—her new home—by courier.

Another burst of yelling and crackling startled her, and she would have dropped her glass right into the water had Madara not caught her and it, smoothly moving the glass to a little table and pulling her against his body. That brought a flush to her cheeks, which she turned and hid in his strong chest. What was it he smelled like, underneath the soap? She'd smelled it on the other Uchiha, too, the one that Neji wanted. Woodsmoke, stone, and forest. An odd cologne for someone used to city life.

One hand stroked her hair, still damp from her shower. The curl had gone out of it and it hung straight once more, dark against her pale skin, making her eyes stand out. "They celebrate for us," Madara murmured, almost wistfully. There was some note of satisfaction Hinata could hear in his voice too, and she would have to remember to talk to Neji about that.

"I-It's like a festival," she said. "But it's our wedding."

"It's a new era," Madara replied. "A union between our two families. They're tired of the fighting between Uchiha and Hyuuga, the power struggles…" a sigh. "Those won't cease, I'm afraid."

"Everyone s-still remembers…"

"Yes, they do. But we'll change that, won't we?" he tilted her chin up and smiled in that way of his that always seemed to make her knees melt. "We'll change everything."

That made her fidget and look down. "S-some things shouldn't change."

He was quiet for a bit, and Hinata worried that she'd made him angry. But then he squeezed her lightly, and in relief, she nuzzled his warm skin. He was shirtless, wearing only pajama pants, and she could feel the contours of his muscles under her cheek.

"You are right," Madara replied, very quiet now. "Some things should not change."

And he tilted her face up to his and kissed her, longer and warmer than any previous. When he pulled away her head reeled, and she clung to him, a solid, and now permanent, presence. His laugh was deep and husky, and when she could think again, her eyes fluttered open to see a curious light in his eyes. It only took her a moment to identify it—and go beet red.

"You color at the slightest things."

"I-I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I-I get f-flustered e-easily a-and—"

"No, I was not chastising you." His lips brushed her forehead, and she did tremble like a leaf now, caught in the heat his touch manifested in her. "I find it cute, little one." Another brush of lips across her own, and for a moment her own tilted, trying to follow them. "Don't fret about it."

She kissed him, free at last to do so without fear, and much to her pleasure he made a little surprised sound before responding, holding her against him firmly. This close, Hinata could feel every inch of him stirring to life, hot and heavy. Remembering that tonight she should be without fear, she pushed all her warnings, all her worries away and held fast, and it was so much _more_ when Madara crushed her little body against his, one hand winding into her hair so tightly it hurt and pulling her head so he could kiss her. She whimpered, the sting bringing tears to her eyes, and he paused, turning what would have been a heated kiss into a tenderer one.

"I forget," Madara murmured, actually sounding contrite, "You are not as experienced." He delicately touched their lips together again, stepping back. Hinata followed, nervous but drawn to him. They continued this, until at last the Uchiha took her in his arms and laid her on the bed, caging her in from above. His hair fell around them, long dark strands, and Hinata reached up and buried her hands in it. Surprising her again, Madara closed his eyes and purred a bit, settling down to rest just enough of his weight on her so as to remind her of the way the pressure of their bodies felt.

She wanted it, badly, if only to get her nervousness about pain and things over with, but Madara insisted they take their time and by the time they were both naked on the bed, Hinata thought he had examined every inch of skin on her front, touched it with fingers, lips or tongue. And now he was kneeling, looking up at her with that curious almost-smile on his face, hand on her knee. Guessing what he wanted, Hinata shyly parted her thighs, feeling even more exposed. Closing her eyes, she waited for the pain to come—but when it did not, she reopened them to Madara grinning up at her, a primal, lustful grin.

"There are so many more things I have to show you," he said. He was not lying.

* * *

Orochimaru carefully rearranged the sheets over Sasuke's sleeping form, pulling them up enough to keep him warm but not too warm. Uchihas seemed to have a naturally higher body temperature than most, or at least, they put out more heat than most. But it had been hot and humid in the midst of the crowd of dancers, sweaty bodies close together, and when he'd judged the time to be right and pulled Sasuke out, the young man's skin had been hot to touch. And there had been a lot of touching.

Now he watched the other sleep, stretched out across the black silk sheets with one arm flung out and his head turned slightly. The tips of his hair gleamed silver in the fitful moonlight, when it wasn't hidden by the clouds moving back in over the city. The wind howled around the towers, but the soundproof glass masked it. The only things that made it through were the vibrations from the fireworks around the city, and their light. It caught in the blue-black hair too, occasionally turning the silver tips yellow and red. Beautiful.

Anko had disappeared with someone the moment the deejay had pulled his equipment onto the stage. She'd sent him a text so he knew who and where, and that she'd be back at the tower in the morning with a full report. Her absence was a good thing, as the privacy of the limo had been used to its fullest, and having to see her former (or was it still current?) interest with a new Uchiha shadow would have put her in a fouler mood than usual. One day she would leave and not come back, Orochimaru knew. It mattered little to him.

Sasuke murmured something in his sleep and furrowed his brow, shifting a bit. The older man reached over and ran his fingers through the soft black hair a few times, something that always seemed to calm him, and true to that, Sasuke stilled. His hand had come over to grip Orochimaru's wrist tightly, though. It was one of those things the boy did that made Orochimaru wonder if he was truly asleep. Then a few minutes later he could not wonder any longer, for he was asleep too.

* * *

"Is that everything?"

Neji looked around his cousin's room in the Hyuuga tower one last time. All her clothes had been packed up into boxes and suitcases and packed into the waiting van, which would take them where the Uchiha's staff would hang them up. But on the outside, everything was in place—bed made up neatly as though she'd come back to sleep in it, the wall alcove with a vase of fresh flowers and a picture of her mother.

"I believe so."

Itachi had come over to help with bringing things down to the garage and loading them, though the moving people (and Neji) had insisted they had it under control, that Itachi must be exhausted with the day's exertions. Secretly he'd been grateful. They'd helped clean up as much as they could after the reception had ended at well past one in the morning, until the staff had kicked them out. Seeking an outlet for their energy, dutifully trying to avoid thinking of the solution that would clear it up easily, they had come back and helped here. Now that that was done, they had nothing left, and they were quite alone.

"Some tea?" Neji asked, reaching for the phone. At a nod he did so, pressing the kitchen speed dial and placing their order, having it brought to his room instead of Hinata's. He was strung taut as a bow already, he thought, leading the way out. There was very little either of them could do to make it worse.

Much to his pleasure Itachi silently followed him through his room and onto the balcony. With a little help, Neji had turned this into a very nice space; a bird of paradise towered out of one planter, some variety of palm out of another, both surrounded by other varieties of flower. Under the fronds of the bird of paradise was a wood table and chairs covered in cushions. It was secluded, covered from the elements, and most of all, it was something that was wholly his own. When the kitchen staff knocked Neji excused himself to go get the tray. Carrying it back out, he saw Itachi had sat on one of the chairs and was staring out across the city, looking very far away. The Hyuuga let him be after he said a soft thanks and picked up his tea, looking away again.

"What do you think happens now?"

Neji looked up from where he was considering the depths of his green tea, and thought a moment before replying. "Everything changes."

"We have to find out what the city has on what happened last time. They…" Itachi looked down at his own cup. "Uchiha protects its own, even against itself."

"I think all of us do." A pause. "It smells as though it will rain."

"The stars are veiled. Perhaps it will."

They fell silent again after that. Itachi finished his tea and set the cup down on the tray. He paused, looking over at Neji as though waiting for the other to say something, and when he did not, the Uchiha rose. "I shall not tire you further by asking you to drive me back to the Uchiha tower," he said. "I shall call for one of our valets." Another curious pause, then he disappeared inside. Neji watched him go. It was, he thought, now or never.

"Itachi."

He heard the footsteps inside cease. Heartened, Neji put his cup down and went to stand in the doorway. In the light cast by the single light on in the living room area, Itachi's face was in shadow and his expression unreadable. This did not deter the Hyuuga at all.

"It's late," he said. "You should stay." Shutting the balcony door, he leaned against it, letting the long moment they spent in this gaze pass, and it seemed their thoughts passed between them unspoken, but divined all the same.

_Are you certain?_

_I have been certain._


	10. Chapter 10

Madara put the phone to his ear, listening to the crackle as the connection was made. Hinata was still asleep, a sinuous curve underneath the blankets that covered her, snuggled into the warm spot he'd left when he got up. She had stirred, and he had been afraid she would wake, but last night's exertions had been sufficient enough to keep her out. It had been a long time since he'd had someone completely innocent, like her, and he rather looked forward to the two weeks they would spend on the cruise.

_This is Pein._

Madara stood, paced. "How is the city this morning?"

_She still sleeps. Last night was rather magnificent, sir._

"Yes, it was." He paused, eyes following the curve of Hinata's hip. "What are the rags saying?"

_Singing your praises, of course, just as you predicted._

"And our esteemed guests?"

_Sasuke went back to Hebi with Orochimaru last night. Itachi has not been seen yet, but he is not in the Uchiha tower. We are working on locating him._

Well, that was curious; Itachi was the last person he'd expected to disappear last night. "He will turn up."

_Everyone else has reported back. Kisame says the party on Fifth and Largo was of particular exuberance. They were, I believe, the source of most of the fireworks._

"I thought they might be. If Itachi calls you—you know what to do."

_Of course, Leader-sama._

The line went dead, and Madara thumbed the end call button and set his phone down on the desk again. A satisfied smirk crossed his face as he regarded Hinata again, nibbling on his thumb. All had gone as planned yesterday, and continued to do so. With any luck, by this time next year, he would be sitting at the head of the only stability the city's people—and indeed the world—would ever know again.

* * *

He woke unwillingly. It was a gradual process, made much more difficult by the warmth and comfort he found himself in, and for a long while he resisted the very idea of it at all. It would be much easier to forget by going back to sleep; somewhere in the background, a very soft, quiet music was playing, ambient noise that threatened to lull him back. Beyond that, the sound of rain falling on the plants outside was like static, only more relaxing. At last he realized he could not stay asleep, and slowly, opened his eyes.

The bed was unfamiliar, the linen sheets softer than those on his bed at home. He was facing the window, and the rain cast the room in a dull light, appropriate only for sleep and soft whispers. He was pleasantly relaxed, the thick band of tension that had settled across his shoulders in recent weeks gone for the moment. The air itself was cool, but it was warm in the bed. Apparently the other in the bed thought so too, because they shifted a bit with a soft sigh and rolled over so they were closer.

Itachi opened his eyes fully and moved his head on the pillow so he could see. The flat light did nothing to dim the beauty of the Hyuuga; if anything it made the other's hair a richer brown as it rippled and eddied across the sheets, limned the finely sculpted features in silver light. For a long time, he watched the steady rise and fall of Neji's chest as he slept, and then rolled onto his side and looked around the room.

There was a man's portrait hanging in a small alcove, two candles and three sticks of burned-down incense in front of it, and a vase of lilies behind it. That must be Neji's father, Itachi thought—Hyuuga Hizashi. Neji couldn't have been older than four or five when he was killed, because Itachi had been six and remembered it only vaguely. He was certain it stood out in Neji's mind. Two hand-painted calligraphy scrolls (harmony; perseverance) hung on either side of the alcove. To the left there was the bathroom door, partially open; to the right, a door to what was probably a walk-in closet. Across from the bed, a flat-screen television hung above a low mahogany table that had another vase of flowers and a few books on it; in a recess below that there was a DVD player and cable box. DVDs and books were arranged on shelves recessed into the wall on either side of the TV. There were no sounds from other places in the tower.

The wind whipped up, lashing rain against the windows, and Itachi ran a hand through his hair. It was out of order, and he idly tugged his fingers through a knot. A very distinct memory of pale fingers winding into his hair and gripping it hard floated up, and with it came a slow upwelling of remembered pleasure. Stretching out a bit, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, Itachi lay down on his back again. Last night—this morning—had been very pleasing indeed. More pleasing to note that Neji had not only initiated it (something that could have been done out of a sense of duty that ran abnormally strong in the Hyuuga), but had enthusiastically participated—which was, Itachi thought, probably the reason the Hyuuga was still asleep.

But now that he was awake and unable to lie still, Itachi again rolled onto his side and looked at the clock—it was just after ten in the morning, he realized. They'd had barely six hours of sleep, but tomorrow was the day they'd agreed upon sneaking into the property room to get the originals of the documents Jiraiya had given them and he needed to prepare a few things. It was difficult to bring himself to get up, though, particularly when Neji stirred again and Itachi had to watch his brow furrow, eyelashes flutter, and a scowl pull at his lips before his eyes opened a sliver. They were, the Uchiha noted with some pleasure, the same shade as the overcast sky.

"Cold," Neji muttered, and inched toward Itachi.

"It is raining," he replied, reaching down to straighten Neji's hair, brushing it out of the other's face with a fingertip. Perhaps it was the love for hair kicking in (the one thing that all Uchihas seemed to share), but after fixing Neji's silken mass of hair, he could not resist sliding a hand back and burying it in the warm softness next to the scalp. Neji made a grumbling noise and closed his eyes again, and Itachi leaned over to press his mouth to Neji's kiss-roughened lips.

"What time is it?" Neji murmured, when they had pulled apart. His eyes were opened again, dark and liquid in this strange light. One hand stroked Itachi's hair. It was very distracting.

"Ten-fifteen."

Neji groaned, pressing one hand to his eyes. "We should get out of bed."

"I think the city may be able to wait a little while longer. We did not get a lot of sleep."

"And whose fault was that?"

It took Itachi a moment to realize Neji was giving him a sly look between his fingers, mouth curved up a very small bit. He brushed that question off and indeed, forgot all about it when Neji's fingers ran through his hair again, and Itachi let his eyes close in pleasure. Another long moment passed before Neji let his hand drop and rolled off the bed, standing and stretching. "You may use the shower if you like," he said, gesturing to the bathroom. "I will use it after you." He nudged Itachi's pants with his toe, that sly smirk on his face yet. "And if you like I shall ask for clothes in your size to be sent up."

"No, I will wear these. Nobody will see me between here and the Uchiha tower." Itachi stood and stretched, then walked over to grasp Neji by the hips and pull him forward. The other gasped softly, hands coming up to grasp his biceps, eyes closing—out of habit, he thought with an inward scowl. These were the rehearsed responses, so ingrained that even now they came out. It was a subtle difference, but it was there. Still he kissed Neji again and strode off into the bathroom.

He was not surprised to find the shower well-stocked with shampoo and soap—harsh, abrasive soaps, nice-smelling soaps, and a rather well-used sea sponge. No wonder Neji's skin was so soft, Itachi thought. He scrubbed most of it off every time he showered.

The Uchiha took advantage of the selection and washed his body, then his hair. When they'd been dancing last night, it had been plastered to his scalp with sweat, and Neji had certainly put him through his paces afterward. Of course, it had still been the Hyuuga who had curled in next to him a few moments after they'd finished, finally sated, and passed out…

Stepping out of the shower, he shut the water off and grabbed one of the fluffy white towels off the rack, drying his hair and torso as much as he could before wrapping it around his waist and walking back out into the bedroom. Neji was not in sight, but he heard noises from the living area and wandered to the doorway to see the other clad in a loose yukata, taking a heavily laden tray from a servant. The door was shut and Neji turned, carrying the tray toward him. "I thought you might be hungry," he said, and there was that wry undertone that Itachi was most familiar with. "I do not know what your preference is but I believe the kitchen has sent up a little bit of everything, so you should find something to your liking." The tray was placed on the bed, and Neji grimaced a bit after he'd straightened. "I am going to shower now. If there is anything you need, dial one on the phone and someone will help you."

While Neji was showering, Itachi put the tray outside the apartment door and dressed. By the time the sound of the blow-dryer had ceased, he had gone through Neji's book and DVD collection, gleaning what he could out of the selection. Neji seemed to have a fondness for action movies of the martial-arts variety, and as far as the books went, histories. There were a few on human population genetics, several scientific journals that had papers on prehistoric migrations marked with little tabs, and a book on methods used in gene sequencing. If Neji had not been made to follow this path, Itachi wondered, would he have gone on to study this? Certainly it was easy to see Neji in a lab coat, running gels. Did he regret not being able to do it?

Nothing was said between them when Neji re-emerged, wrapped in a towel, and went straight into the walk-in closet. It was more like a dressing room, with one section given over to eight racks of clothes organized by color and style (one whole compartment for suits alone), and one with a full-length mirror and seats. Neji was selecting his clothes, holding pieces together until he had a combination he liked. It was the most casual Itachi had seen the Hyuuga; no button-down shirts this time, but dark blue jeans and a brown t-shirt with a curling, intricate design screen-printed on it. Brown-and-gray Vans were set beside one of the stools, along with—Itachi smirked a bit—a very fashionable-looking pea coat.

"Are you ready?" Neji asked, removing the towel and picking up the jeans, pulling them on. He watched Itachi's nod in the mirror as he pulled the shirt over his head and put his shoes on, then collected the coat and a scarf and turned off the lights, calling down for his car as he did.

The elevator ride down to the first floor was silent, and awkward. Things between them had changed permanently, and whether it was for the better he could not tell yet. Neji seemed more at ease with him, but it was entirely possible that it was falsity—after all, he'd been trained to it. Things were better in the car; they had a brief scuffle over the music and finally settled on Holst's _The Planets_. The familiar melodies made the drive easier, though Neji was a very careful driver and took no risks on the dangerous, rain-slicked streets. The Uchiha tower rose ahead of them too quickly for his liking, and when they were almost in front, Itachi reached over and touched Neji's arm.

"Keep driving."

"What—"

"Just do it." He directed them to a small lot between two buildings, a couple blocks away from the tower. It was littered with trash, and a junky Hyundai slouched over two flat tires in a corner, but it was safe from prying eyes.

"Itachi, what are you—"

He leaned over and caught Neji's querulous lips, hand winding into the other's slightly-damp hair. It was as he'd intended, a passionate, burning-hot kiss, and his satisfaction increased when Neji made a little noise and released his seat belt, turning to face him. When at last they pulled apart, Neji had a flush high on his cheeks, his hands gripping Itachi's shirt. And Itachi found he could not say anything, so he pulled away and got out, shutting the door and walking through the alleyway toward a side entrance to the tower. He did not look back.

* * *

The engine of the Lexus purred as Neji opened it out along the Forest Highway. Few people came out this way anymore, the pull of the city behind him being too great; this was just fine for Neji. He wanted to be alone right now, and so he was, the only thing breaking the silence being the sound of the rain against the windshield and _The Planets,_ still playing over and over until he hit the button to turn the stereo off in frustration.

Ever since he had begun his duties, Neji had built up what he liked to think of as an impenetrable wall, along with an ironclad set of rules of engagement, so to speak. There were certain things that he did not do with those he slept with, parts that he kept compartmentalized and locked away. He never stayed the night; waking up with someone made them think they were more important to him than other clients, and could disturb the careful harmony he kept. He never even laid in bed with them any significant period of time afterward, never favored them with more meetings, never saw them casually; and most importantly, he never let them hear his voice, sweet and laden with pleasure and lust, that he had cultivated throughout his training and then carefully, methodically, put away for good. These things he simply could not share with men and women who drifted in and out of his life, those who had no real meaning to him. This was a business, after all. Rules must be followed, boundaries must be observed, otherwise he would only be subjected to more hurt.

Neji hated to admit it to even himself, but waking up next to Itachi with that relaxed, unguarded look in his eyes—it felt more _right_ than anything else. When they had both awoken, in that long moment, Neji had not wanted to move at all. The Uchiha was much warmer than his surroundings, and Neji had always had trouble keeping warm. It had taken an extraordinary amount of willpower to keep himself from curling in close to a source of warmth and going right back to sleep. It made him want to break the rules that were all he had left.

It was a very typical reaction for someone to run from their problems, he thought idly. When Itachi had kissed him and then left without a word, he had given in to blind self-preservation, tearing through the city and into the mountains it abutted. The government had long ago declared this a preserve and wilderness area, keeping it from being logged to serve the needs of the greedy dwellers below. The Hyuugas weren't much for outdoor activities or camping, so until he could drive, Neji had only seen pictures and glimpses when the smog lifted after a rain. As soon as he'd gotten his license he'd driven into the mountains and gotten out to walk trails carpeted by brown, dead pine needles. This had been just after he had graduated high school two years early, and just before Hiashi had informed him of his filial duty as an escort.

Now he pushed the Lexus to its limit, using all its modest power to get him away from things that complicated how life had been carrying on. The farther he went, the easier it was, and by the time he reached the first of the sharp turns, Neji had fallen into deep calm.

The road up to Reflection Lake had hairpin turns, blind curves, and a sheer two thousand foot drop on one side. It was, fortunately for Neji, rarely traveled at this time of year; Reflection Lake was not in an area of utterly breathtaking pine beauty, like the other lakes that littered this region. It glittered blue amid granite boulders, set below desolate-looking peaks covered in low bushes and scrub pine. Neji found it beautiful. Others did not.

His focus was on the road, however; it ascended at a steep grade, and he downshifted for the first turn, keeping perfect control as he came out of it, immediately setting up for the next one. He hit each subsequent turn dead-on, the danger making his heart race and his adrenaline levels jump, breath quickening as though he was with a lover—

A half-second too late and he overcorrected, nearly hitting the guardrail, swearing loudly as he would only do in private like this. Neji was fairly certain his car wasn't bugged or hot, and he had a mechanic who became trustworthy after a transfer of a certain large amount of money check it out every month to make sure. The Hyuuga did not want to be followed everywhere he went. Some things had to remain sacred, even if he wanted to let go. Many times over the course of the night he'd had to bite his lip on a loosed cry in that voice he had promised himself would stay unheard. Usually it was easy enough to keep his control; now it seemed he was losing it.

He took the rest of the road in a less reckless manner, still going well over the speed limit and only slowing as he passed through the gate and into the parking lot. The lake was off to his left but he parked facing toward the valley and the city. Even at this distance it was easy to see the Hyuuga and Uchiha towers, two glass-and-concrete phalluses pushing up into the air. And there, that one a distance away from them was Hebi, its lurid purple logo visible even from here. In the other direction, Suna's shorter but no less grand complex shimmered in the downpour. Neji's eyes picked out the less impressive structures of every minor family that was clawing its way up the ladder, until it rested on one barely visible through the rain-haze. Ame, it seemed, was building its own tower, which meant a new ring to deal with and size up. Neji had not heard of any new ring out of Ame, but it was possible there had been one. Things in the last few weeks had been entirely too hectic for him to keep track of the machinations of anyone outside his known circle.

After an hour, when he was beginning to calm sufficiently, his phone beeped. It was not Itachi's assigned tone, for which he was thankful. He would have to arrange things with the Uchiha this evening but for now, he had to put it from his mind. There was still work to do.

* * *

Sasori turned away from where Deidara was arguing with the contractor over some point of construction of his design, and leaned against the car. They had driven over to the site today to see how things were going, and apparently the blond was not pleased.

"It's all _wrong,_ un," he'd snapped when Sasori questioned him. "Leader-sama approved the design _himself_ and these _fuckwits_ have gotten it wrong."

The point of contention was, apparently, the courtyard between the lobby doors and the street. Deidara had designed a magnificent sculpture to be placed in front atop the black granite, but there was some discrepancy in the measurements, and then Deidara had noticed some differences about the façade of the building itself. Sasori could see the artist's frustration with the process, but even he'd had to admit that the blond's design was imposing. It would have the desired effect on those who visited it, he was sure. At least the Leader hadn't approved Deidara's more 'experimental' designs, including one with a fountain that would periodically emit blood-red flames, one using not water but sulfuric acid, and a particularly strange design inside the lobby itself that centered around an aquarium full of squid.

Sasori's phone vibrated and he slid it out of the holster, suppressing a groan when he saw it was Hidan. Thumbing the appropriate button, he put the phone to his ear. "This is Sasori."

_Itachi showed up, Pein's not answering his phone. Bastard told me to tell you._

Kakuzu would do something like that, the redhead thought. "When did he return?"

'_bout eleven. Just walked in a side door, as if he'd come back from a walk. He was wearing the same clothes he wore last night though._

That was certainly interesting; Pein would want to note this so he could report it to the Leader when he returned. "Thank you, Hidan." Ending the call on an expletive, Sasori watched as Deidara stalked back across the granite courtyard, looking murderous. "Are you quite done?"

"Fuckers, un," Deidara muttered, going around to get into the other side of the Lotus. "Couldn't know real art if it slapped them in the face with its dick." Sasori made a noncommittal noise, knowing better than to argue with Deidara's chronically odd euphemisms. Deidara straightened a bit though, a pleased little smile crossing his face. "But they still saw things my way in the end."

"Splendid."

"I know _you_ don't care, un."

"Not a bit."

They drove back to Konoha, Deidara sullen, Sasori concentrating. He hated city traffic, and much preferred the far-distant place where they had concentrated themselves before the Leader had called them here for his purpose. Sasori in particular did not enjoy being dragged to this place and _expected_ to do what he was told, but the pay was good enough and if they pulled this off, the city would be a much better place to be than the rest of the world.

* * *

The next evening, the city was almost back to normal. Those citizens who still followed the law had fallen into routine again, and by nine o'clock, most of them were getting ready for bed, and were far away from the skyscrapers and the industrial yards where they worked. This suited some people who walked the other path just fine.

Sasuke leaned against the Shelby, watching others gather. It was nine-thirty, there was a break in the storm, and they were parked between two old, deserted warehouses far out in Suna. Well, deserted as far as they knew—he was sure some minor family had a hold of them, because the chain-link was new and he'd caught a glimpse of a camera lens flashing in someone's headlights. Either way, they weren't well-guarded, and that was being taken advantage of.

_Stick to the plan, Sasuke._

"I'm going to, don't worry." He scowled at his bike, imagining it was Neji. "I'm not stupid, I know what's riding on this."

_We never doubted that you did._

Sasuke closed his phone and muttered something, causing Orochimaru to look over at him from where he was playing some game on his iPhone. "Problems, Sasuke-kun?"

"Think I don't know the plan we went over ten times yesterday," he snapped, snatching up his helmet. "As if he'd let us forget."

"Do not trouble yourself too much over it, then." The older man reached out and grabbed Sasuke's belt, pulling him back and sliding his hands around the Uchiha's torso as his lips found a particularly sensitive place on Sasuke's shoulder. He was rewarded with a barely-audible exhalation of breath, one more felt than heard. Sasuke turned, scowl becoming a smirk, leather pants creaking a little as he shifted to straddle Orochimaru's legs. Sasuke's shirt was thin, and heat radiated out from him; Orochimaru was able to feel his heartbeat, fast in his excitement.

A little clearing of the throat behind them made the two pull apart. "Are you two done pawing?" Jiraiya asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's going to start."

Orochimaru reached inside the Shelby and handed Sasuke his jacket, zipping it up for him and pressing cold lips to the Uchiha's warm ones. "All you have to do is win," he murmured, running his fingers up into the back of Sasuke's hair and then back out, feeling the shudder that went through the other's body. That smirk was still in place on Sasuke's face, though, and he pulled away fully.

"I always do," he replied, and got on his bike. The engine roared as he tore off down the street, curses and screams following him as he nearly ran over people in his haste to make the lineup. Orochimaru let himself admire the way Sasuke's ass looked in the tight black leather. That view he would always admire from afar; Sasuke would never get him on that death trap of a vehicle.

He rolled into line with the other riders, sizing them up; only the girl on the far right would present a problem to him. The others were obviously already nervous by his appearance, skittish and prone to making mistakes, but the Yamanaka family was notorious for their mental cool, and he did not think he could unsettle Ino as easily. She was also a friend of Naruto's and thus a friend of his, as the blond tended have a group in tow wherever he went. She caught his eye and nodded. He did not respond, and instead eyed the little device that was attached very discreetly to the left handlebar of his bike. This had better work.

* * *

Itachi raised an eyebrow as the black Alfa Romeo rolled up in front of him. "I thought you were going to choose a less conspicuous vehicle?" he asked as he slid in, and then did a double take. Neji had gone through the effort of tucking his mass of hair up under a short, blond wig, and putting in brown contact lenses. He looked nothing like himself, and seemed rather smug about it.

"This is inconspicuous," the Hyuuga said. "The black color is an opaque membrane covering the much more appropriate opal paint job, and the plates have been changed, conveniently removing the golden sun design from the background, and thus, any implication of a Hyuuga's involvement. And nobody would suspect an Uchiha; Madara has plenty of enemies who could want to learn about his past. We are coming at the change of shift in the jail, and thus, attention will be there instead of on us entering the office building; plus, we have the added distraction your brother is going to provide us. I believe that is very inconspicuous."

Itachi smirked as Neji pulled into traffic again and wove through cars to park down the street from the office building. Neji checked the clock and at the appointed time (incidentally, the same time the race taking part in a completely different part of the city began) pulled into the office parking lot.

"You are going to follow behind me, correct?" Itachi asked, zipping his coat up against the chill that pervaded the air. Neji had to admit Itachi looked good dressed as he was now. The black bomber jacket had a fur-trimmed hood, and Itachi had put that over a white track jacket and a red shirt with a design he recognized from a band's latest album. He looked like an investigator, coming in on his own time to pick up something left at work, with a friend in tow. Realizing he was staring, Neji quickly looked away, packing the laptop and portable scanner into his bag. His initial panic had calmed, but Itachi was no longer fitting into any category Neji sought to put him in, and worse, Neji was starting to enjoy it that way.

"I don't know my way around this place," he said, and zipped the bag shut, putting it over his shoulder. "You'll have to lead."

They locked the doors and Neji carefully wrapped the keys in a piece of soft cloth and pocketed them so they wouldn't make noise. It wouldn't matter much if people they passed thought they were just here on normal business, but it was rather late, and Itachi had said the property room would be deserted on a weekend night. Any noise would be suspect.

Swiping his card across the electronic lock, Itachi pulled the door open for Neji and shut it quietly after them. At the other end of the hallway they found themselves in, there were voices, laughter. "The jail," Itachi muttered, and turned down a long, dimly lit hallway. "This way."

Their shoes were muffled on the carpet. Nobody was in their offices; the shades were down and the lights were off, and there was only the hum of the air conditioning and electronics to break the silence. At a door at the very end, Itachi stopped and pulled out his keys, fitting them one by one into the lock to find which would fit. His brow furrowed.

"None of these work."

Neji sighed and nudged him out of the way, reaching into his wig to pull out one of the pins holding it in place. "Let me," he said, bending the pin into a useable shape and sliding it in the lock., delicately feeling around until he caught the latch. The door opened smoothly, and Neji extracted the pin, putting it back in his hair and walking inside.

"I didn't know you could pick locks." Itachi followed Neji into the darkness of the property room. They were in the anteroom, packaging materials—paper bags, manila envelopes, evidence tape—on a counter on the side. The door to the property room itself was unlocked, thankfully, and Neji opened that too.

"I thought it might be a useful skill." Neji pulled his flashlight out and clicked it on, illuminating tall shelves full of boxes labeled with case numbers. "We're looking for CR-0609-0703, correct?"

Another beam of light behind him came from Itachi's mag-lite, aimed in another direction. "Yes."

"These are all from this year."

"It'll be toward the back more." Stepping over a PC, Itachi led the way toward an aisle between two shelving units and aimed his flashlight at the little cards on the side, keeping an eye on the years. The darkness pressed in around them, seeming to recognize them as intruders. The weight of years of crime made the air heavy; the smell of drugs, old blood, and things less pleasant permeated the air. Neji found it hard to breathe; Itachi seemed to be just fine.

At last after they'd passed through forty years, Itachi stopped, checking one card closely. "It's on this one," he said, and grabbed the flywheel, turning it first one way and then the other so there were aisles on either side of the shelf. Wordlessly they each took a side and picked over the boxes, going one by one until Itachi made a soft noise.

"Here." The sound of cardboard against cardboard as Neji came around, taking the backpack off his shoulder, flashlight tucked under his arm as he began unzipping it.

"You're sure?"

Itachi opened the box and pulled out one of the documents in a manila folder, scanning it. "Yes. This is it."

Neji opened the laptop and plugged the scanner in to the USB port, then attached both to the portable energy source he'd put in the bag too. His fingers flew over the keys, pulling the program he'd had written for this. One of Orochimaru's programmers had come up with it, presenting him with the CD earlier. He'd tested it out, and it worked well, replacing missing or blacked-out words as a superimposition. Bringing up the first page, Neji took the folder and began scanning, watching as a whole sordid history unveiled itself before his eyes.

Itachi, who had been going through the other things in the box, made a soft noise. Neji looked up from where he'd been reading to see Itachi pale as a sheet, holding photographs in his hands. "What is it?" Wordlessly Itachi began handing him the pictures and Neji understood.

The city looked like a war zone; buildings were torn apart, burning cars and rubble littered the ground, bodies lay slumped where they'd been slain. One after another, and he became more horrified with each.

"What happened?" he asked when Itachi had taken them and carefully rearranged them back into their own manila envelope. "What caused this?"

"There was something I remembered reading," Itachi said, quietly. "About how forty years ago the city erupted into violence, warring between two factions that had helped build this place—Konoha—into what it was. How one man… one man with those who supported him nearly destroyed it all again."

"Your uncle."

"Yes. But I was never told the whole story—bad for family morale."

"Funny how those things work." Neji changed pages in the scanner, watching the words scroll across, the repetitive motions of putting in new sheets giving his mind room to think. "Why do you think he's returned so openly, then? I can't imagine he'd be well-liked."

"The old guard is dying." Itachi's gaze was distant. "There are few who remain who remember what he did; and those who do often find it hard to act in the ways they used to." A look of sudden sadness came over him and was gone so fast that Neji barely had time to register that it was there at all. "They find new methods," he said at last, very quiet. "But they know there is little they can do to hold back this storm." As if on cue, a thunderclap shook the building. He finished up the last of the documents and handed them back to Itachi, who straightened them idly and replaced the box "Perhaps they are not even trying."

"Perhaps." Neji shut the laptop and was just finishing packing everything up when they both heard the sound of a key in the door. Neji hurriedly zipped his pack shut and slung it over his shoulder as Itachi dragged him to his feet and pushed them both over behind the next set of shelves, into a little alcove half-hidden behind musty-smelling boxes labeled with case numbers even older than the one they'd been looking at.

"Who would be coming in here at this time?" Neji whispered. Itachi shook his head, going quiet and still as the door opened.

A male voice called out, "What are we looking for again?"

A woman answered, "CR-0609-0703." The lights came on, and Itachi pressed them back farther into the alcove. If he peeked around the boxes, through a gap in the shelves he could just see where they'd been moments before.

The sound of footsteps got closer and closer until two people came into view through the gap in the shelves. The man had a hat on, but even without the aid of the brightly colored hair, Itachi could recognize those piercings. This man had been at the reception—and the woman he was with, from what little he could see of her, was the same.

"Here it is."

"Why are the shelves here apart? This is an old case, they shouldn't be."

"Perhaps they are purging evidence. Did you take care of that?"

"I did. It wouldn't be suspicious if it turned up missing."

"Excellent." There was the sound of the box coming off the shelf again, and then the rumbling as the shelves were replaced. "Can you carry it, Konan?"

"Yes, easily."

"Very well. Let's take it back; that explosion in Suna was fortuitously timed. Are you sure that wasn't Deidara…"

Footsteps receded, and the lights went off. Itachi made them stand still until he heard the door shut, and after that waited another few minutes before relaxing and turning his flashlight back on. Neji looked tense, but pulled out his own light as they made their way back to the door. It wasn't until they were back in the car, and Neji had blessedly removed the wig when they'd driven around the next block to regroup, that Itachi spoke.

"Those two were at the reception."

"I know." Neji was scowling, nibbling at his lower lip. "Did you know who they were?"

"No. I assumed they were friends of Hinata's or my uncle's."

"Hinata-san has no friends like them." Neji stretched his tense shoulders, pulling fingers through his hair. "Your uncle doesn't seem the type to associate with the man."

"Who knows what he was doing while he was away?"

"True enough. Call your brother, although it sounds like their diversion worked."

Itachi pressed the speed-dial for his brother and waited through three rings before he picked up.

_What do you want, aniki?_

"How did the race go?"

Sasuke's tone was smug. _Won by a mile, literally. There wasn't any competition. I need to start paying in for harder fields._

"Excellent. I will see you tomorrow." He hung up, and looked over at Neji, and kept himself from saying anything. At last Neji put the car in drive again and pulled back onto the main road.

"Tomorrow, then," he said quietly.

* * *

On the rooftop of the hotel they'd been put up at, eight people stood around a firepit, watching papers curl and blacken in the flames as they were fed in by Pein.

"He'll be back in a couple weeks, right?" Hidan asked for the third time that evening. "I'm fuckin' bored, sitting around here. The reception was great, but goddamn…"

"When he comes back, things will proceed," Pein stated again, calmly. Kisame didn't know how he kept his cool; the blue-haired man liked Hidan, sure, but under this relentless whining, he'd have long since decked the guy.

"Then we'll do what we were brought here for," Konan added from her chair. She was idly folding a rose out of red-colored paper.

"Good," Hidan muttered. "I'm tired of the asshole getting to go and keep an eye on that hot chick in Uchiha's Accounting department. He fucking gloats about it all the fucking time."

"Could you be a little more vulgar," Sasori muttered. "I don't believe you're good enough to rap yet."

"Listen, you goddamn little—"

"That's enough, Hidan." Pein's voice was mild, but his eerie eyes flashed in the flickering, dim light. "Restrain yourself."

With a glare and mumbled curses, Hidan subsided. His eyes, an odd blend of amber-brown and pink, glared through the fire at Sasori. Pein continued to calmly slide the papers into the fire, assured that this dark piece of Madara's past would not vanish, but eventually fade from thought and memory, and be lost.

* * *

Over the next few days, the story slowly came out as Neji wrote a summary of the history of the Uchiha clan, the district, and Madara. At some points, he felt a little guilty; this should be Itachi's task, rightfully, he thought. Having a Hyuuga do it, though their families may be officially linked by marriage now, seemed wrong in some way.

Forty years ago, the city was nothing like the gleaming metropolis it was now. Dingy and polluted, the economy faltering, the citizens lived every day in fear of the many small families that roamed the city streets at night, and when those who were powerful cloistered themselves in their towers of concrete and glass, keeping to themselves and unconcerned with the livelihood of the rest of the city. Nobody came out after dark; the most common window décor was the iron bar. Governments rose and fell, each more ineffective than the last, until the city was poised on the brink of anarchy.

It was out of these desperate times that two bright lights shone. One of them, the family that still had a grip on the district government, and the city as a whole; the Senjuu, led by a man by the name of Hashirama, were the first to take charge. They made a cover for their operations, began donating large amounts of money to certain social programs, and got their members into government. They were more or less benevolent, despite the trafficking in weapons that they undertook, and soon became one of the two huge powers in the city. The other was, of course, the Uchiha. Madara and his brother, Izuna, had spent long building up the clan to what it was when the Senjuu began taking over. They too had begun to appeal to the public, drawing in more members and alliances to smaller families, growing by leaps and bounds. It was only logical, then, that they would eventually make an accord with the Senjuu, and between the power of the two of them (and what the other families including Hyuuga did following their example), the city began to prosper and pull itself out of the cesspool of blatant crime it was. This agreement between Uchiha and Senjuu was not an alliance, per se; and perhaps that very mobility was what had caused it to fall.

Izuna had died under mysterious circumstances; Madara, grieving the loss of his brother whom he had held very dear, blamed a Senjuu-affiliated group. They denied the claim, and Senjuu took offense, and then (as far as Neji could tell, from the tribunal documents, all hell broke loose.

Madara, unable to rally the support of a family that had grown used to this new way of life, recruited mercenaries from all over the world. In his rage, he challenged Hashirama himself, as the city erupted into violence. It was a bloody few weeks of fighting, culminating in the utter destruction of parts of the city. Madara and Hashirama fought in the streets along with their allies, and when the smoke had cleared, Madara had fled the city and Hashirama was gravely wounded, recovering as the Uchihas and the city's forces mopped up the ragtag bands that Madara had brought in. Hashirama himself never recovered fully from his injuries, dying at an early age. Madara was heard from only occasionally by his family, but after his transgressions, it was considered that his flame had been extinguished as well.

Until now, Neji thought, sending his summary off to Itachi, Orochimaru, and Sasuke. It seemed that the coals had not been scattered far enough, and where they had been flung to had been rich in fodder. Madara kept it banked, only the heat telling of the power of the blaze that could be freed. It was only a matter of time.


	11. Chapter 11

Tsunade placed Itachi's latest report atop a stack of others exactly like it and closed the file folder, sliding it back into its place. It was innocuous enough amongst the others in the drawer, down to the unassuming case number writ on the tab. Exactly the same as its author, she thought. Someone nobody would suspect of being a double agent. She'd long known Itachi's sudden appointment as an Investigator was to better the Uchiha clan's hold on the government of the district. She knew that they had agents, or family members themselves, in every other district leadership position they could get. Uchiha existed to better itself, she knew, and they'd always been blatant about it. Madara's return from his honeymoon was imminent as well, Tsunade recalled, and scowled. His insult was fresh in her mind, his long-standing affront to her family. Why he blemished the city with his continued existence…

Well, she thought. It would all be done with, sooner or later, and she intended to see Madara be the loser once more, and preferably dead, finishing the job her grandfather couldn't. Then whatever was left of Hinata's innocence about the world could be salvaged, or at the least she could take leadership of Hyuuga instead of Hanabi. The younger daughter was a fine girl—Tsunade had little against such a talented youth—but Hinata's temperance was better suited for the job. Things could go back to the comfortable way they'd been before.

Sooner or later, the balance would be restored.

* * *

Itachi was waiting by the terminal with the limo, appearing every inch the cool, haughty Uchiha. Inside, he was boiling over, thoughts and plans and desires mixing up around each other and adding to the confusion. It seemed the weather was reflecting his mood now; it was once more threatening and stormy, though at least the heat wasn't oppressive. They were between showers, he thought; rain scented the air again, and it smelled close.

While he waited (the board showed Madara and Hinata's plane as being on approach), Itachi turned his mind to the matters of the last two weeks. The documents scanned had revealed to him more of his own family's doings than he knew at all, and the fact that these things had been hidden from him annoyed the young man. Neji had written an accurate summary, if he'd been parsimonious with his words. Itachi had read and reread everything, until he feared he'd talk in his sleep and repeat phrases from some court document or letter and be found out.

Actually, he thought wryly as he shifted his position, he was more likely to call out to Neji, even though they hadn't so much as touched each other in the two weeks following the wedding and Neji was back to dancing just out of his reach once more. It was utterly maddening and to make things worse, the Hyuuga's coolness made Itachi wonder if the whole thing, from the first glimmer of interest to present, was only his acting. Certainly the younger man hadn't stopped receiving offers and—to Itachi's mind—had been accepting far too many of them. Itachi did not relish the feeling of jealousy whenever Neji would return his calls with that tight, clipped tone of voice he always seemed to have after a client.

The board changed the status of the flight to 'Arrived.' Itachi straightened, opening the trunk of the limo and making sure that the driver didn't mind him riding in the cab on the way back. He didn't want to have to sit through forty-five minutes of his uncle pawing over Hinata. Annoyance flared up again, as it had every time he thought of the fact that Madara _could_ have Hinata whenever he wanted though he didn't deserve her in the least, when Itachi would be more likely to have Neji if he made an appointment.

The porters brought the luggage out to the limo before Madara and Hinata made it out of the terminal, and as they walked up—Madara looking incredibly smug, Hinata incredibly tan—Itachi thanked and tipped them and turned, bowing. "Uncle Madara, Hinata. Welcome back."

One of the valets opened the door and Madara put his hand on Hinata's back. "Why don't you go first, my dear," he said, and watched as she did. Itachi shifted his weight a bit; Madara had that look on his face, as though she was some possession of his rather than his wife. That thought was put away as Madara turned his attention back to Itachi. "Was all well while I was away?"

"There were no problems at all, Uncle Madara. Everything went smoothly."

"Excellent. I will expect a full briefing after we have returned."

"Of course."

Madara slid into the limo and Itachi closed the door after him, going up front. It would be a very long forty-five minutes.

* * *

The buzz of Neji's phone only barely registered; he was, at current, on his back on the mat in the mirrored training room, and his phone was on top of his hoodie by the door. He ignored it, in favor of staring at his own reflection in the ceiling mirrors and scowling—then realized it was probably Hinata, back from her honeymoon, and scrambled for it. "Hello?"

_Neji-nii?_

A sigh of relief. "Hinata-san. You made it back all right."

_Y-yes, we just returned. Are you doing okay?_

What a loaded question, Neji thought. After all, he was far from okay… "Yes, Hinata-san, I'm fine. Did you enjoy your trip?"

_It was very nice. Madara got us a suite, and—_there was a little stammer here—_well, Neji-nii, y-you gave me g-good advice, h-he was very gentle when I asked him t-to be._

He smiled. At least, she sounded happy. "Do you have many pictures?"

_Yes. One of our gifts was a camera, so I t-took lots of pictures. Madara took some too. _Her tone became a little hopeful. _D-do you want to come over and see tomorrow?_

"I would love to. When?"

_Come over a-at eleven. Then we can have lunch, too._

"That sounds excellent. I'll look forward to it, Hinata-san."

_Neji-nii…_

"Yes?"

_Please don't be so formal around me. _

His smile widened. She was wife to one of the most powerful men in the world, and still kept her humility. "All right, Hinata."

_Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow._

_\_

The line went dead, and Neji put his phone away, picking his hoodie off the floor and heading for the elevators down the hallway. He had things to do besides ruminating on recent events. Unfortunately they seemed to be occupying most of his mind lately, as such things often did, and as he stood now going up to his floor they came back after having been so blissfully gone during the time he set aside for training and working out. It was not given to him, a lesser son of greater sires, to have what he desired, and that was the reality of things.

* * *

Hinata looked around her after putting the phone down. Servants bustled through the apartment, decorating. This had been empty before their arrival, and one of them had lamented that it wasn't finished upon their return. Hinata had shyly replied that it didn't matter and she'd be happy to help select pieces, but was told it had been selected already by the Uchiha's interior designer, and not to worry about a thing. The color scheme was darker than she'd like—unlike the Hyuuga who loved the lighter shades, the yellows and pastels, the Uchiha seemed to favor reds and chocolate browns—perhaps because it complimented them so well, with their dark eyes and pale skin. Her eyes stood out. _She_ stood out. And she didn't need to be Neji to notice things—that conversations were clipped short around her, that she was watched more closely, that when she walked into a room every pair of dark Uchiha eyes went right to her. If it weren't for Madara subtly dispelling it all with his very presence (which seemed to unnerve a lot of his own family), Hinata didn't think she'd have lasted her own return.

Suddenly feeling oppressed in the room, Hinata got up and went over to the glass sliding doors, opening them just as the sun broke through the clouds for a bit and shone warmly down on something she'd been admiring through the door since she'd timidly sat on the bed, out of the way. The door opened onto a wooden deck, a table and two chairs under an umbrella and a chaise lounge opposite them. The rest had been transformed into a huge garden space, with gravel paths between planters and fixtures. There were even patches of grass here and there, some on landscaped hills, others shaded by arbors still uncovered by the climbing plants placed by them. To one side, there were citrus and cherry trees. The cherry trees weren't in bloom, of course, but there was a smaller orange tree that scented the air with its blossoms.

"Lovely, isn't it?"

She turned, that voice now so familiar to her. "It's b-beautiful, Madara. I d-didn't think the Uchiha had something like this."

"They didn't until I ordered it put in here." Madara's shoes crunched on the pea gravel as he came up and bent to inhale the scent of a particular cluster of blossoms. "I was flying over once in a helicopter and saw the Hyuuga had little gardens. I thought it might be a touch of home for you." His hand caught at hers, the platinum wedding band glittering in the last rays of the sun that came through before another cloud bank hid it.

"That's very c-considerate of you," she murmured, turning with him to continue along the path, looking out over the city. "The air is much c-cleaner after the rains."

"Washing away all the airborne filth we humans accumulate these long years of industry." There was a way to his speaking, the stress on a certain word, that made her look over. Madara looked intense, as though whatever he was thinking of had been stewing in him for a long time. "Does nothing for that which isn't."

"There are other ways of c-cleaning."

"Indeed there are." He smiled at her in that odd way of his, and she shifted uncomfortably. "But enough philosophizing. Let us have dinner—I've arranged for it to be brought out here. I was hoping to surprise you then, of course, but…"

More servants were putting two settings at the table, now covered in a white linen cloth. A stand nearby was laden with food. Hinata smiled to see several of her favorite dishes steaming there. "You work too hard at making me feel at home," she said shyly. "I am an Uchiha now. I should b-be c-careful to learn your ways."

"Our ways?" Madara poured them both glasses of wine, and then gestured for the servants to leave. "You make it seem as though you've come to live with a completely foreign people."

Hinata thought back on her day; the luxurious private jet that had been waiting at the debarkation pier to take them home as soon as they and their luggage was off the ship; the deference with which they'd been treated upon their return, with what seemed like the whole family lined up on either side of them with their heads bowed respectfully; the servants everywhere insisting she not lift a finger. "It's more d-different than I anticipated," she replied quietly.

"You needn't worry." Madara's voice made her cheeks burn with shame, and her hands start to fidget with the napkin. "Most are simply apprehensive about your heritage. It will wear off."

Hinata did not think years of enmity could vanish so easily, but didn't say anything. "If you say so."

"Do not trouble yourself over such matters, my dear." Madara sat up and picked up his silverware, preparing to eat. "Things will all become better in time."

* * *

Under the pretense of meeting a contact, Itachi drove through Konoha and into Oto, deftly maneuvering the Spyder through lunchtime traffic. His destination was the base of operations that Orochimaru had chosen for them—it had been one of the terms of his agreement, that nothing was conducted in his actual office building and nothing could be traced back to him. It was a fair enough and common enough stipulation that Itachi and Neji had had no trouble accepting it, and had left the older man to choose a place that satisfied their requirements and his paranoia.

He did wonder what Neji had in mind, though. The Hyuuga had come up with a list of things they needed in this base of operations, and when Itachi inquired as to the need for certain of these features, he'd been met with one of the young man's mysterious, sly looks, and a confident assurance that he'd find out eventually and it would aid them later on. As he pulled into the warehouse in Oto that had been chosen, a faint smile touched his lips. Clearly, Neji had a sight more cunning in him than he let on.

Pulling into the only open garage port on the building, Itachi pulled in beside Neji's Lexus. As he was getting out of his car, the healthy growl of a powerful engine made him look up and see Orochimaru and Sasuke pulling in on Neji's other side, the top of the Shelby also down. He couldn't suppress a small smirk; it never failed to amuse him that Orochimaru, when made to drive somewhere on his own, chose a muscle car. Even Itachi knew he wasn't compensating for anything physical.

"Gentlemen," Neji called out. He was leaning on a wobbly old card table left in the warehouse by its previous occupants. Unidentifiable stains covered the surface—at least, what of it was visible under the schematics that Neji had unrolled and weighted with various objects. Neji flicked another switch, illuminating a few more tables with rolled-up pieces of paper on them. These were quickly laid out and weighted with keys, iPods, phones, and anything else handy. "Thank you all for coming. I apologize for calling this meeting on such short notice, but I've a full afternoon and wish to outline a few of the things I think we may need to make this plan successful."

"Other than luck and Madara buying the shit we'll feed him on silver spoons?" Orochimaru cut in, looking up from where he'd been muttering over one of the blueprints with Sasuke. A wry smile twisted Neji's mouth up.

"Beyond that, of course, Orochimaru-san." He looked around at all of them. "Our goal is to either capture or kill Uchiha Madara—no small task, obviously. With Orochimaru-san so generously funding us, we have the capital, but we need much more. These are plans of the Uchiha Tower, which Itachi-san has procured for us—"

Itachi bridled at the use of the honorific. Though he detected a note of what could pass in the Hyuuga for fondness, the fact that they were back to these terms did not sit easily with him.

"—which we will use to plan what must be done the day all of this is to come to fruition. But that day is at least a year off, if not more. Much more must be done."

"A year?" Sasuke looked up. "Madara could have the city on its knees in front of him by that time!"

"I am aware," Neji replied, evenly. He walked over into shadow and pulled out a white board, which had been covered in his neat handwriting. "This is our task list, and this—" he flipped the white board to the other side, "Is our timeline. If you will look at the tasks, not all of them can be accomplished with much alacrity, and indeed must be handled delicately. This leaves us no choice but to proceed slowly and carefully. Believe me, Sasuke," and his eyes were a steel grey, hard as rock in this light and mood, "I do not wish to see my cousin in his arms for any longer than is absolutely necessary to ensure success of our plan."

Chastised, Sasuke went back to studying the blueprints, and Neji continued. "We will need support from certain minor rings, personnel, a legitimate—or mostly legitimate—business cover, clientele, equipment, and…" his eyes flicked to Itachi again. "A man on the inside. Itachi, this is your role. You need not worry about any of the other components if you do not wish."

"With the protégé of the most powerful man in the city talking up a venture, many would come to lend it credibility," Itachi said. "I can get clients for whatever it is you'll be using all this space for." Looking around, Itachi gauged the size of the place against various businesses that would use such a space. "I would say half of it you will make into a legitimate repair garage, and the other half will be partitioned off, made to look like another business, but house not only the parts you'll outfit streetworthy cars with but also our own supplies."

Neji could not mask the pleased smile fast enough, and did not try once he knew Itachi had seen it. "The Uchiha are surprisingly perceptive. Those are indeed my intentions."

"A good idea," Itachi said. "If you can find the mechanics to work it."

"Hinata-san has several friends who have been attending a vocational college. Naruto—"

"You're not actually going to--!"

Neji stilled Sasuke's horrified protest. "Naruto is quite skilled. I have faith in him. There is also Sai—" he shot Sasuke a look to stifle any further protests "—who is an excellent artist and has agreed to do decal and custom paint work. And certain others... you will meet them in time."

"Why the support from minor rings?" Orochimaru asked. "Why do we need their help? I've an army of trained—"

"Those trained under your masters have a distinct style. Sasuke himself has a distinct flair to his hand-to-hand combat that is directly resulting from your hand in his training, just as I have a stamp on my own fighting style that marks me as Hyuuga no matter how I alter my appearance. It would be obvious, even if the men and women were unmarked, who they belonged to; thus, we need the minor rings to provide us that, and a distraction."

"Distraction?"

"So we can accomplish our goal."

The rest of the time was spent roughing out an actual plan of attack on The Day, getting estimates of what they might need to precipitate the situation that they would make their move in, and laying out initial plans. It was growing dusk when Neji straightened, stretching arms up over his head, and called the meeting to a halt.

"Madara has decided to host a fete tonight," Itachi said, running a hand through his bangs. "Family only. My apologies, Orochimaru-san."

"I'll try not to take it personally."

"Strictly formal, of course."

"Of course." Neji was packing up his briefcase, everything neatly tucked into files and stored. "Shall I pick you up?"

"Why don't I this time?"

He saw the Hyuuga swallow, then nod. "Very well. I shall be expecting you then."

Neji handed him a copy of the keys to the building and sped away, and once more Itachi was left watching him leave, hair whipping in the wind. It was going to rain again tonight, they said. Perhaps it would even be cold enough to snow in the mountains behind the city. Unseasonable, for this time of year, but not unheard of.

* * *

Itachi was awoken the next morning by a very anxious-looking maid. "Madara-san bids you dress and meet him in the garage."

"When? I haven't—"

"He bids you _now._"

Scrubbing his face with one hand, Itachi got out of bed and instructed the maid in what clothes to lay out for him while he made himself presentable. Trust Madara to inconvenience him in a way he couldn't object to.

Once washed and dressed, Itachi made his way down to the garage and over to where Madara was leaning against his car, spinning his keys around a finger. That made Itachi think, _he's never had nervous tics like that before._

Madara was strangely silent, too, gesturing for Itachi to get in. He did so and Madara took off, not looking as he exited the garage and pulled into traffic. Most people, upon seeing the Superleggera in their rearview mirrors, scrambled to get out of the way, and they made it to the great ring highway without too much trouble. Madara, despite his odd quiet, seemed to still hold his disregard for stoplights and speed limits. As they merged on and got into the fast lane, Itachi glanced at his uncle out of the corner of his eye. He was used to the egotistical, overconfident Madara—that one was a known, could be handled. This new, silent Madara scared him.

At long last, as they were passing into the Ame district and rain began to speckle the windshield, Madara glanced over at him. "What you are about to see and experience, you must not tell anyone," he said, serious. "It is imperative that you keep this from anyone else in the family until such time as I tell you it is all right for you to speak on the matter."

"Of course, Uncle. But what necessitates this secrecy?"

"You will see when we arrive."

"Where are we going?"

A cocky smile—that, Itachi knew well. "You will see. Look." He pointed a finger ahead, and Itachi saw a new building, rising up out of the mist. It glittered faintly in the city lights, reflective glass turned orange and yellow and neon colors, ever shifting. Grander even than the Hyuuga tower, which even Itachi would have admitted to be more elegant than the Uchiha's own. "That is our destination."

They were pulling up in front of it in a few minutes, and Itachi stared upward at the façade. It loomed overhead, taller by half again than the buildings around it.

"One hundred and eleven floors," Madara said. Mist droplets clung to his mane of hair and glittered on the pea coat he wore. "Ame was pleased to have such a prestigious building come to their district. Most technologically advanced though Ame is, it has an astonishing level of crime. Those who will occupy this tower in the near future will do much to curb that."

"Who…"

"It's not completed yet." Madara started toward the entrance and Itachi trailed behind, wracking his brain to think who would have erected this. No new rings were forthcoming, and save the reports of individuals bearing a new sigil, one he had yet to see for himself, there was nothing to suggest one was coming up. Certainly not one that would defy both Uchiha and Hyuuga and all the other families in the city, and court their ire so willingly with this obnoxious structure. "But it will be soon. First the business, both legitimate and otherwise, will move in. The actual occupants will not arrive for some time, I am afraid. Many events stand in their way."

The door was heavy and lacquered black and red. There was a blank space where a company sigil should be, and Itachi made note of that as they passed the doors. The sigil was the trademark of any ring, and when constructing a place such as this the first thing they would do would be to label it as theirs, to issue their subtle challenge. To leave it unmarked…

_It will not be the strangest thing that's happened today,_ he thought wearily, and looked up to see Madara giving him that odd, intense look again.

"Is everything all right, Itachi-kun?" he asked. His rich, deep voice echoed off the black columns and the arched glass of the atrium enclosing the entry hall.

"Nothing makes sense, Uncle," the younger man replied after a moment. "I have not heard of any new ring that could possibly have the capital to fund this kind of construction, nor any that would dare challenge Uchiha and Hyuuga…"

"No, you would not have. Those who will take over here prefer to operate in secrecy at the moment."

"Is that why there is no sigil on the doors? No mark on the tower to identify?" Itachi watched his uncle carefully, and when he was met with a pleased smirk, felt another chill run through him. Madara was not himself today, and it was beginning to worry him.

"There is a sigil here, Itachi. It would be better viewed from above the atrium, and a vantage point in the food court area just above it might be ideal, but you are, literally, right on top of your answer."

Itachi's eyes grew wide as he looked down, mind processing automatically despite his shock. It was odd how clinical he became in these situations, under moments of duress; how cold he could be, in the face of the brilliant gold of the sun's rays that radiated outward from the yellow stone that, very obviously, depicted a sun exactly like that of the Hyuuga. And atop it, the red-and-white uchiwa that he was so very familiar with—his family's sigil.

"Now you understand my secrecy," Madara said. "Uchiha-Hyuuga Incorporated does not, strictly speaking, exist."

"No, it does not…" Itachi looked up at his uncle, steady now. "Is that your intention?"

"That is only the beginning." Madara extended a hand toward one of the elevator banks, where the doors were sliding open. "This will be the next step."

Out of the elevators stepped a group of black-clad people, hoods up to hide their faces. They formed a loose semicircle behind Madara, who smiled—a true, pleased smile—and walked over to one, holding out a hand so the other could clasp it. "These men—and woman," he nodded toward one of the cloaked figures, "Will help secure for Uchiha the supremacy it deserves, and eliminate those who would oppose us."

His head count carefully noted (eight cloaked figures, of varying heights and builds), Itachi said, quietly, "You are those who have been seen around the city lately. Terrorists."

"We are much more than that, Itachi-san," the one Madara had clasped hands with lowered his hood, and Itachi recognized the man who had been at the wedding and the property room. Messy orange hair fit the piercings well, and custom contacts. "We are a group of individuals aligned with your Uncle's beliefs and goals; we are his army on the ground until such time as his plans can be enacted, very soon. I am called Pein; Konan is my partner." The one next to him lowered her hood and bowed her head.

"We are not hired help—mercenaries, called upon to clean Madara-san's dirty laundry," she said. "We are business partners, after a fashion. We will have a share in the world that is to come, the world built on Madara-san's vision."

"What is that vision, Uncle?"

"One where the people are not ruled by those who have wrongly gained power," a third cloaked figure stepped forward, lowering his hood. Itachi met a pair of serious brown eyes the shade of the desert mountains in the great southern reaches. "One where they are free to do as they choose with their lives."

"One where justice is meted out by the righteous." A fourth, an ash-blond man.

"Where concern is not placed on those who leech off the wealth of others, and one earns what one deserves." Another man, black hair and oddly bright green eyes, stitch tattoos covering him.

"Where people aren't restricted by arbitrary rules." One with long blond hair and blue eyes. The others slowly lowered their hoods; a man with vines tattooed up his neck, and another with bright blue hair.

"Where Uchiha finally has its due," Madara finished. His eyes glittered brightly, despite the light, as he walked forward. "Where all these long years, what has been denied to us because of one man's greed and willingness to put aside years of camaraderie will finally be ours." He put a hand on Itachi's shoulder. "Uchiha will finally get what it so badly deserves. No longer will we be a broken house, long bereft of prestige, where the grandmothers and grandfathers sit enthroned and look only into the past. The past will no longer matter, when what I plan is put into motion at last."

"You speak of anarchy," Itachi replied. "But one that you will rule, without appearing to."

"Why bother trying to fix Konoha—Ame—the city itself?" Madara smiled. "They are beyond even my aid. Better to do away with a broken thing, than keep it in hopes that it will fix itself, don't you think? And with my elite—" he gestured to the eight "—who would dare oppose me? I would have power, without holding office. I would have the wealth of the city at my fingertips, and the people would love me for freeing them from the oppression they have been living under. The Senjuu and their brats have ground us under their heel long enough."

"Why have you brought me here?"

"Ah, Itachi, right to the point—you always did hate beating around the bush, and I have followed you through life closer than you may know." Madara looked at him again. "Join my elite, Itachi. You are on the inside, passing information to that inbred shrew of a district head—oh, no need to blanch, I knew from the beginning and saw that you never put anything more in your reports than was necessary—and I will not ask you to stop. We will instead need you to continue as you are, blithely reporting the Uchiha gossip mill's output. It will give Tsunade no indication to think anything is amiss."

"And if I refuse to join?"

Madara gave him a chilly smile, one that Itachi had no trouble interpreting even before the older man spoke. "There will be no refusal, Itachi. Why, after all, would you ever turn down this opportunity to be a part of history—to be a part of Akatsuki is to do thus, after all. Kisame here will be your partner in the tasks I will set to you. You answer only to Pein and myself."

Backed into a corner, Itachi had no choice but to bow deeply to his uncle and say, "Thank you for this opportunity," as he had been taught. He looked up again, nodded at his new partner. Kisame nodded back, cordial. Well, that was something at least.

"And now our business is, for the moment, complete," Madara said. "I have given some assignments, and I suggest those get underway as soon as possible. Kisame, Itachi, meet up some time this week. Those who do not know each other cannot work together efficiently, and each movement Akatsuki makes must be efficient. Itachi, you will return with me, but I expect you to do as I ask."

"Of course, Uncle." It galled him, being so subservient, but there was no alternative. "I shall meet with Kisame-san this week and get to know him."

"Good. Now, we have work to do."

* * *

Hinata collected their cups on a tray and put it on the cart outside the door, still giggling a little. "It is the m-most undignified I have seen Madara since we met," she said, over her shoulder, to where Neji was snickering on the couch in front of her laptop, flipping through pictures from a particularly heated contest participated in during the honeymoon. "He r-regretted it when we r-returned to the suite. I think even the best masseuses could not have helped him in the m-morning!"

"It doesn't seem like it." Neji snorted at a particular picture. "He is very competitive. They all are, Uchihas."

"R-runs in the family. I talk to Sasuke w-when he comes home from Oto. H-He is very pleasant, if a little s-stuck up."

Neji arched a brow. "Sleeping with Orochimaru, being from the family he is, I would be stuck up. But Hyuuga are properly humble. Except your sister."

Hinata giggled. "S-Sasuke is really sleeping with Orochimaru? I thought t-that was just r-rumor."

"Well, Orochimaru teaches him more than the art of assassination, at the least." Neji ended the slideshow, clicked the next folder. Hinata colored a little, glad she'd put the naughtier pictures in a protected file and hidden them in an unrelated folder. Sitting beside him, she went through the lot, telling of the places the ship had visited, more glad that Neji was here. They'd had to cancel their original date for various reasons, but when Neji had called and asked if her schedule was clear, she'd jumped on the chance. It became very boring, being locked up in Madara's ivory tower, his elusive queen. Neji was so busy she hated to take time away from him, but somehow he knew she needed it.

When they were through at last, they sat back. Neji had a wistful look on his face, and finally, Hinata remembered that he'd very rarely been allowed with them on their family vacations. It wasn't the place of one in the lower ranks to be rewarded very much. Showing him her photos had probably put him in mind of the same beaches—the ones she'd visited often as a child and teen, the ones he'd never been able to see for himself. Looking down and fidgeting with her hands, she said, "I could ask Father to give you a break and send you. I-I could pay for it. N-Now that I am Madara's wife, I h-have plenty. You n-needn't work yourself into the g-ground, Neji-nii."

"It is all rig—"

"No, it isn't." Startled at her own outburst, Hinata paused a moment before going on. "I want you to be happy, too."

Neji smiled, a rare, genuine one. "I am happy, Hinata-san." He tilted his head, looking at her. "Are you truly?"

"I want for n-nothing—"

"Not the same. Are you happy, as Madara's wife?"

The question hung in her mind hours later, as she sat musing over a cup of apple tea after Neji had left. As she'd said, she wanted for nothing, but even at home she hadn't been waited on hand and foot like this. She could barely sneeze but for someone standing up to hold a handkerchief to her nose for her; could not bathe without maids offering to help. It was lavish, and she was grateful, but she missed the measure of independence, however small, that she'd had.

Perhaps Madara saw that in her face when he came back into the apartment and found her staring into the depths of her cup of long-cold tea. He sent out all the servants and hung up his own coat, coming to sit by her. "What troubles you?"

She leaned against him, eyes drifting to the small vase on the table. Along with the fragrant orange blossoms she had clipped earlier, the arrangement she'd designed included fern and forsythia—an odd mix, but one she felt particularly drawn to. These were odd times.

"It's nothing, Madara," she murmured, turning to press her face into his shoulder. "I worry about m-my cousin."

"Neji?" Madara sighed softly, fingers stroking her shoulder. "He is such a talented young man. He ought not be under your family's thumb."

"He does deserve more," she replied. "He will n-never take it though."

"Talk to him. Anything he wants, we will give. He is my cousin now, too, after all, and the Uchiha look after their own." His stroking fingers moved, brushed over her skin in a manner definitely not conciliatory, and once more her body betrayed her worry and she hummed, shifting a little toward him. "And now my wife needs looking after." His voice elicited the same reactions in her that it always had when it was pitched a certain way—that husky, dark voice. She giggled a little again.

"Haven't you h-had me enough?" She asked, parting for him anyway and letting him nuzzle into her chest, gasping a little as he bit the tops of her exposed breasts. Surely he had. They'd been so enthusiastic since the wedding—she blushing more than a few times after they'd finished while they were on the ship, certain their neighbors were not as amused as Madara was. He never seemed to tire, either, while she was left shaking and lightheaded after one or two rounds.

"Never," he rumbled, nibbling up to her collarbone. That was all she needed to hear.

* * *

"This changes everything."

Neji, leaning against the doorway between the sitting room and his bedroom, replied, "It gives us an advantage. You are an insider now." His hair was down, and shone in the light. It hung heavily over one shoulder, perfectly straight. Itachi felt the irrational desire to bury his hands in it and pull until a lusty moan—

He shook his head. The heat was on high but he could stand it. Perhaps.

"But at what cost? What things will I be asked to do?"

"Certainly no worse than you've done before." Neji tossed hair over his shoulder from where he'd been in close examination of the ends. "From what you say, this band he's created is full of ragtag petty thieves he's recruited from every dive across the city and wherever else he's been in the intervening years. They won't hurt our plan any, and if you know their movements, even if a strike is eventually put against us we can take steps to lessen its blow, or stop it altogether. This was meant to happen—did you not think Madara would recruit you, after all the interest in your future he has shown?"

Itachi sat on one of the chairs and put his head in his hands. "I do not wish more violence than this city will see and has seen already, and now it seems I must be part of it. I want none of his machinations." Running a hand down his face, he stared out across the city. "But peace is too much to ask, here."

"The city has never known peace," Neji replied, crossing the room to take the tray of tea from the servant who had brought it in. "It cannot imagine a world without gunfights and gangs controlling it. If we left, it would collapse." Pouring two cups, he handed one to Itachi. "This is what fate has spun for you."

"I do not believe in fate," Itachi replied, but took the cup. There was a slight brush of fingertips, and Itachi glanced up. Neji was looking away, though, so Itachi took a sip and wrapped his fingers around the fine porcelain for warmth. He felt chilly.

"Why else would we be in the situation we are?" Neji asked, acid in his voice. "I did not choose to become a whore for my family, to be bought and showed off like a dog. I doubt you chose to be taken in by your tyrannical uncle. I did not chose to—" he cut himself off, jaw clenching before he continued. "If it is not fate, then what is it?"

"The result of our decisions and those of our families since before we were even born." Itachi set his cup down and folded his hands, looking up at Neji full on. "We cannot always blaze our own trails. Some things are laid out in front of us by the feet of those who have gone before."

This time, the Hyuuga held his gaze, and felt that familiar stirring in his belly. He could no longer ignore it as he had since the wedding, he knew. Not anymore. "And some things are our own doing." As he turned to go into his bedroom, he ran his fingertips lightly over Itachi's arm, beckoning him to follow. When the door between the sitting room and the bedroom closed with a soft snap, Neji smiled.

Itachi said, "So which is this, Neji? Are we only following what has been inevitable?"

Setting his cup down, Neji plucked Itachi's out of his hand, setting it aside as well as his little smile turned into a very smug smirk. "I would think you would know that this was inevitable."


	12. Chapter 12

Those of you who have read Jacqueline Carey's _Kushiel's Legacy_ books will certainly get the reference in this chapter.

* * *

It was Neji who woke first this time, stretching sinuously under the blankets and propping himself up on his elbow to take in the room, the sunlight filtering through the cobalt-blue draperies, and the glow of the iHome's display across the room reflected in a decorative mirror. The remote was on the bedside table on his side, he knew; he'd put it there after turning off the music in the haze of afterglow. He'd been awake long enough to remember nestling down against Itachi's side, but after that…

Well, he thought, returning to where he'd started—pressed against the Uchiha's warm body—he couldn't be blamed for it. This time it had been Itachi who set the bruising pace, making up for lost time he'd said when they'd stopped for a breather at one point. Itachi had been toying with a lock of Neji's hair, running it through his fingers for the entire sweat-dampened length, a satisfied smile on his face, when he'd spoken that. Neji, propped up on his elbow with one arm flung across the Uchiha's torso, had rolled his eyes and smirked. Now, thinking about it without the befuddling effect of afterglow, he conceded the point. He had been entirely too careful keeping relations between Itachi and himself strictly businesslike when he already knew they had progressed past that a long time ago. Old habits were difficult to overcome.

As if responding to Neji's thoughts, the Uchiha stirred, one arm snaking around his waist. "Are you always so cold?" he asked sleepily.

"Not all the great families were blessed with accelerated metabolism," Neji replied. Perhaps as a side effect of their hauteur, Hyuuga tended to get colder faster, and so perhaps it was that that made Neji 'lean' a little on the Uchiha, working just a bit of his trade to keep Itachi in his bed. He had been schooled and excelled in the art of the right kind of touch, and—

A husky, deep laugh interrupted him, stilled his fingers. "You needn't work your magic on me, Neji. In fact, I would prefer you not." Fingers describing a warm arc across the Hyuuga's back, Itachi slit his eyes open, looking at Neji through dark lashes. "I would rather not think about how many in this city you've slept with."

"You might be surprised." Neji made a motion, rocking back as though he was going to lay beside Itachi instead of half on top, but the linen sheets were chilly and he rolled back to his previous position. "Most of my clients are repeat customers. Uncle Hiashi chooses them carefully."

"You never choose your own?"

"Oh, sometimes they contact me directly, but…" Neji shrugged a shoulder, taking a deep breath and rolling out of bed. Cold air brought gooseflesh up, but he set about gathering Itachi's clothes and laying them neatly on the bed, more a nervous gesture to delay continuing his thought. At last he paused though, pulling on a pair of loose lounge pants himself. "I have not had many choices available to me, remember?"

Itachi rolled onto his stomach, watching Neji with his chin resting on his folded arms. "Perhaps that will change soon."

Neji looked over. "I have told you before you do not know how our family works. You Uchiha… far back in our line, we may be blood-related, but the two families took very different tacks. You are of your own main family, in any case, and cannot know what it is like to be subservient."

"I suppose I will find out." Itachi reached out and toyed with the long end of Neji's hair. It was mussed and matted from their activities last night, but still shone with health and care. "I do not like the idea of being my uncle's dog in this venture, but as you are fond of saying, I have no choice."

* * *

Life, Sasuke thought, had become an endless string of parties.

Madara's star was on the rise once more, decades after his downfall, and he was taking full advantage of it. These weren't the exclusive club outings, when Madara had been making overtures to the younger Hyuuga set in order to win them over, supposedly fostering goodwill between the families. These were the parties that all youth belonging to any family learned proper etiquette for, and Uchihas especially. They seemed to have a supreme talent for mingling, making light conversation to the accompaniment of Bach or Debussy; everywhere among the assembled A-listers, blue-black heads nodded and perfect white smiles flashed. All the Uchiha were in some shade of red tonight, lapel pins flashing the uchiwa everywhere. After spending so long in Orochimaru's company, surrounded by things bearing his three tomoe, and around their slowly progressing resistance group, Sasuke had become brittle.

"Relax," Orochimaru murmured in his ear as he passed by. Sasuke scowled, trailing after him.

"Don't you ever get a little tense," he said through teeth clenched only a little bit, "When you don't feel welcome at a party?"

Orochimaru collected another wine glass and together they made their way to the landing of the stairway coming down into this particularly ballroom in the Uchiha tower, watching the clusters of people in the room and particularly the trio circulating to each group. Orochimaru had shown him the art, and Sasuke had made a few passing attempts, but he couldn't fathom the idea that anyone could remember not only the names and occupations of every person in the room, but their entire family, their recent activities and ambitions. Yet Madara had all this, and with Hinata on his arm and Itachi trailing behind, he went to each group and greeted guests personally, a warm smile on his face. He asked after relatives, congratulated recent accomplishments, and promised to consider petitions for aid.

"Very skillful," Orochimaru murmured, taking another sip of his wine. Sasuke looked over, after tearing his eyes away from the whole spectacle.

"Don't they know it's all an act?" Something about the whole farce bothered Sasuke deeply.

"Oh, I'm certain they do. Very little that goes on here is more than exactly as you say—come now, Sasuke-kun, surely you've learned better than that?"

"You have always said I carried honesty to a fault."

"A habit I have yet to break you of, it seems. Nonetheless, the act puts Madara ever higher, and any who are serious will arrange for a more private meeting to discuss their projects. Most will be dismissed, but those whose pleas are accepted are, of course, going to talk about it." Orochimaru gestured with his glass. "And having your brother there, the heir learning at the elbow of his mentor, is a comforting sight. It speaks of a company with a future." The pale man watched a moment, taking a sip of his wine as he did, staining his lips red. "He must be displeased."

"He's quiet." Sasuke watched his brother as he solemnly accepted the good wishes of an elderly businessman. "Madara keeps him very busy with something he can't talk to even Neji about."

"Mm. Keep a mind like Itachi's busy, and it won't mutiny." Orochimaru smiled wryly. "Only if one gets to it in time." He straightened a bit as the trio made its way up the stairs to them. "Here it comes."

"Orochimaru-san," Madara greeted, smiling charmingly. "So glad to see you could make it. I am given to understand you've been busy."

Hebi had recently had its hands full in the pharmaceutical division; it specialized particularly in medicines deemed contraband by the official licensing and testing board. Strong painkillers in particular, made with certain substances that were, strictly speaking, illegal. Hebi had a new one that had been launched on the market a few days ago and was by all accounts extremely successful. Hebi had its own string of parties planned for later in the month, which made Madara's sudden desire to have a week of his own so close suspect.

"I have your brightest star in my employ," the pale man was saying to Madara, as Sasuke tuned back into the conversation. Orochimaru placed a hand on his shoulder. "It would beoove me to put in appearances so as to ensure he doesn't get spirited away for some project of yours. He's far too useful."

Madara's laugh was that rich one, the proud guardian. It didn't reach his eyes, though Hinata was smiling sincerely. "He'll have to provide us a demonstration sometime."

"Can we not talk about me like I'm not here?" Sasuke muttered. Madara smiled indulgently at him.

"I apologize, Sasuke. You are more than old enough to offer your opinion—isn't that so, my love?" He looked to Hinata for confirmation. Considering that Hinata and Sasuke were the same age, it was something of a loaded question, but she nodded in agreement. Madara leaned over, kissing her temple in a show of affection.

"She grows more beautiful daily," he said, that indulgent smirk still in place. Sasuke had to quell a shudder. Even he felt slimy right now. "She already outshines her husband."

"Not so," Hinata said quietly. "I only r-reflect light from around me."

"Modest," Orochimaru said silkily. "For a Hyuuga." Hinata, unsure, bit her lip and shrank back a little.

"Sasuke, why don't you come by my office tomorrow morning?" Madara's irritatingly constant smirk was back in place. "I do ask a demonstration of you, and I think I've a target that should put you through your paces."

Sasuke bowed, unable to do anything but agree. "I shall be there." This meant that he'd have to stay here, instead of heading back to Hebi with Orochimaru as he'd planned. They'd had little enough time outside of meetings with Itachi and Neji in the warehouse that was slowly becoming a garage, and what time there was often got occupied with requests for Sasuke's particular skill set.

"Good. Orochimaru, I cannot thank you enough for the fine job you've done with Sasuke. I have no doubt in his abilities, having learned them under you." Madara and Hinata swept off toward the next group; Itachi didin't spare them so much as a passing glance; just as well, because his younger brother visibly seethed until Orochimaru hauled him down to the main floor of the ballroom and into an alcove partially hidden by a crimson drapery.

"You should learn not to rise to the barbs of your uncle," the older man said. There was a stern note in his voice that made Sasuke pause in his muttering. It was rare for his teacher to take any kind of admonishing tone with him anymore. "It could prove to be something you regret later."

"What do you—" Sasuke paused, then sighed. "I see."

"Angry minds let loose information that ought to be secret, and are often stirred to rash action. _Now_ do you understand?"

"I do." The Uchiha ran a hand up the back of his hair, making it even spikier. "Doesn't mean I like it."

"You don't have to." Orochimaru shrugged as they made their way back into the crowd. "You simply have to accept it, Sasuke-kun. There is no alternative, in this world."

"Not with my uncle in it." Sasuke affected his usual cool demeanor as they approached a group that had waved them over. "I wonder what he'll have me do."

* * *

When the party finished, Itachi quietly split from the group that was still clustered around his uncle and Hinata and made his way down a set of stairs. At the bottom, he emerged into a small room, little larger than a closet. Here he quickly changed into jeans, a plain black shirt, and sturdy boots. The suit he'd been wearing was hung up—someone would be down later to take it back to his suite. Throwing a black car coat on over it, he put his wallet and phone into separate pockets and went through into the hallway on the other side of this. At the end, there was a door, and outside that door, Kisame was leaning against his new Camaro.

"Took you long enough," he said, showing a toothy grin. Itachi shrugged, going around to the passenger's side and sliding in.

"Madara-san insisted I stay with him. I only just got a chance to slip away." He shut the door and waited until they were underway to pull the manila folder on the dash toward him and flip through it. "Yonbi Daishiro, hm?"

"Competition. And he's been poking his nose where it doesn't belong."

"I fail to see how anyone can compete with us anymore." His words were soft, but they carried enough to make Kisame look over.

"Look, Itachi," he said, serious. "I know you hate this stuff, but we got no choice in the matter. After we're done with this and cleaned up, I'll take you to dinner, eh? Not one of those fancy restaurants you're always at, but something more down to earth." Kisame laughed heartily, such that Itachi could not help but crack a small smile. "The food at this place will put hair on your chest, despite you being Uchiha."

The food was as promised. After completing their task Kisame took him to a real greasy spoon, where they weren't asked questions beyond 'take yer order?' Itachi had never been to a place like this, squished between two warehouses in Kiri and smelling strongly of bacon. Everything on the menu seemed to have it as a component or side—bacon cheeseburger, bacon bits on salad, southwest bacon burger…

"I cannot fathom how you are going to eat all that," he said when their food came, eyeing the assortment of orders in front of Kisame. He had fries and a soda. He was never very hungry after these missions.

"Gotta keep up my strength," Kisame said, grinning toothily at him before tucking in. Itachi watched with a mixture of amusement and horror as the other man ate his way through huge portions of… well, everything, it seemed. "Yonbi didn't give us too much trouble, but I doubt everything'll be that easy. We're one of the best teams." There was no small measure of pride in Kisame's voice, and part of Itachi wondered if he might not be able to convert this one's thinking to the plan that would overthrow his uncle. Surely it would be a waste to have to kill someone who was such a wit on the basis of associating with Madara only.

"You could cast your lot anywhere," he said, when they were driving back to the Uchiha tower as dawn was lightening the sky in the east. "You could do well on your own, even."

"Probably." Kisame drove with one hand on the wheel, cruising down the streets that were at half of their usual bustle. "But the money's not as good as with Madara."

"You might be able to make more if you didn't have to give him a cut."

"True enough." The blue-haired man shrugged. "But y'see, Madara helped Kiri get back on its feet, and stabilized things for my family. I kinda owe him a debt of gratitude."

"He helped stabilize Kiri?" Itachi kept his body language unchanged, but his drowsy mind had immediately come to sharpness.

"Yeah, didn't you know? I thought all you Uchihas were in cahoots no matter how much you all hate each other."

"We don't all hate each other."

"I suppose. In any case—Madara helped Kiri out, oh, ten years ago now."

Itachi felt a chill run down his spine. There had been no word of Madara in the city at that time, and the Uchiha would have investigated fully any rumor. "He was here in the city?"

"Yeah, a few times. Came in that big black car of his."

Itachi was quiet a moment, and then changed the subject slightly to one of cars in general. Kisame was willing to wax poetic about his Camaro, and leave Itachi to his thoughts. If the man noticed that his partner was more pensive than usual, he made no remark, and drove away with a wave of one hand. Itachi was left to go back up to his room and close the curtains one by one, blocking out the light. He thought about what Madara's unmarked presence meant, but his mind was quickly reverting back to its sleep-fuzzy state, and he had barely enough time to turn down the volume on his phone before his head hit the pillow and he slept.

* * *

Hinata was still in bed when Madara went to take tea in the rooftop garden. He paused, a small smirk playing about his lips as he made his way to the side of the huge bed and sat. She had burrowed into the warm spot he'd left behind, but rolled over to look at him through her dark bangs when his weight depressed the mattress and shifted her.

"Is everything all right, my dear?" he asked, touching her cheek briefly before running his fingers through her hair. One good thing about the Hyuuga, he thought to himself. Not only did they make superior partners, but they had lovely hair.

"I'm not f-feeling very well, Madara," she murmured, leaning into his touch and scooting over on the bed so she could press her cheek against his thigh. The warmth of him comforted her, and in a fit of silliness she wondered if his high body temperature would help relax her queasy stomach.

"Should I send for a doctor?"

"It's p-probably j-just a little bug, no need to w-worry." She smiled up at him.

"It is getting cold. Winter is coming. You should be a little more mindful of going out." He continued to stroke her hair until she lay dozing against his leg, one hand pressed to her stomach, the other resting on his knee. When the servant brought tea he took it on the bed, then slipped away as she continued to sleep, quite pleased indeed. Things were going very well.

* * *

Orochimaru's birthday arrived, and in typical Hebi fashion, the doors of the ballroom of the tower were opened and all those who wished to attend—major and minor families, businessmen, government officials—all were invited. It was a grand thing, with each member of the Hebi retinue tuned out in finery. Orochimaru and Sasuke held court over it, and by all accounts, it was a success to cap the festivities surrounding his medicine's debut.

Sasuke did minor knifework for Madara. He detested the time it took away from his other pursuits, among Hebi and with his brother and Neji, but the will of his uncle wasn't lightly set aside, and he had no choice but to comply. It was enjoyable work, but Madara's eyes gleamed in a curious way every time Sasuke returned, and it unnerved him, as though his uncle was rearranging the little block scribed with Sasuke's name, moving it around in whatever his grand scheme was. Sasuke knew Neji and Itachi had a grasp on the nature of it, but Itachi was becoming ever more taciturn, and Sasuke dared not learn more, for fear that that penetrating gaze that his uncle possessed would see right through it all.

And then, one day, he was summoned to the office.

* * *

Sasuke stared at his uncle across the huge desk. Time had slowed down suddenly, and he found himself taking note of how fastidious Madara kept the monolithic piece of furniture, compared to his father, who had since been relegated to a less important area. Neat piles of work to be done and orders to be sent out were in careful array, a laptop was open and hummed softly off to one side. No pictures adorned the surface--again, a difference from his father, who had pictures of the four of them, Mikoto alone, and Itachi and Sasuke as children at some pristine beach they'd visited once. Madara's desk seemed wholly impersonal, as though when he got up and left it would lose all symbolic meaning it had to whoever was facing him across its wooden expanse.

Time came back to him, and Sasuke blinked. "You want me to _what_?"

Madara's smile was mirthless. "It's quite simple, Sasuke. What part are you having difficulty understanding?"

Sasuke felt the rage bubbling up in him again, and tried to remember the breathing exercises that were among the first things he had learned when he'd been apprenticed to Orochimaru. _In through the nose, out through the mouth. Count to ten..._

"I know you are not a stupid boy, so I cannot comprehend why such simple instructions are so baffling."

_One... two..._ "Perhaps," Sasuke said, voice tight and controlled, "My comprehension stops at the part where you are asking me to murder my own teacher." _Three... four... five..._

Murdering people he did rather well, and at this point, it was not something he thought much about anymore while he was carrying out the act. One could not, when the knife was buried to the hilt in flesh that would soon be cool. Death-dealing was something they were all expected to do without moral qualm. In the night, Sasuke sometimes imagined that he would be punished for this all in the next life, but being Uchiha, he could never think beyond this life, no matter how important it was said to be. Nonetheless, murdering his teacher—all romantic feelings aside—was something that any apprentice would have balked at. The rules and effects of fostering and apprenticing among the families were complex, sometimes more binding than marriage itself. To commit such a treason would put the whole family at risk of dishonor.

Madara seemed not to care, hands steepled in front of him as he considered his young nephew over the tips, dark eyes mocking. "Come now, Sasuke. Don't tell me you didn't see this coming? Surely you could have disinterred it from our little exchange at that ball some weeks ago?"

It wasn't working. _Six... seven... eight..._ "What if I refuse?"

Madara's smile turned chilly. "I ask you to do this for the good of our own family, Sasuke," he said in that irritatingly sanctimonious voice, and Sasuke bristled even more. He hated being patronized, and that was precisely the button that Madara was pushing. Madara knew it too, and Sasuke knew that he knew, and thus could do nothing. "Where are your loyalties stronger? To Orochimaru, the man who's been bedding and courting you with his pretty words--oh, don't look so surprised, it's patently obvious--or to your own flesh and blood?"

He should have known that his uncle would pull something like this, Sasuke thought. He should have known all along. _Nine..._

"I didn't think you'd put your teacher above your own family. What would your mother and father think?"

Sasuke struggled to keep himself together, in the face of his uncle's malice. It was hard, but if he could just hang on to the end...

"What would Itachi think, Sasuke? Your brother loves this family--and especially you--with his whole being. What would he think if he knew you were willing to betray us?"

_He'd laugh in your face,_ Sasuke thought, but the flames had died a little with that. "Just stop, Uncle."

Sensing his victory, Madara's smile and manner returned to one of calm dominance. "I'm not asking you to go complete this task right away, Sasuke," he said placatingly. "No, that would be most ignoble, and not fitting for someone like Orochimaru. I just ask you have it completed by year's end."

That left him precious little time. Sasuke grappled for that last number, and failed, holding onto himself just barely. Standing and bowing, he lowered this gaze after a moment. He couldn't look at Madara any longer. "Year's end, then," he said quietly.

"I know this must pain you, Sasuke." Madara got up and circled round the desk, coming to stand in front of his nephew. "My own teacher was someone very dear to me, who gave me all the tools I needed to build this family up out of the rubble that was the world when I was younger. But Orochimaru poses a major threat to us, and I cannot abide it. The sanctity of this family cannot be compromised by him. Do you see?"

Sasuke made a sound that apparently passed for an affirmative, for Madara nodded and placed a hand on Sasuke's shoulder. "I shall be there to support you when the news breaks that he is dead. We Uchiha look out for our own." He dropped his hand, and the younger Uchiha bowed again, quickly leaving the room and getting into a waiting elevator. He could feel his uncle's eyes on his back the whole way, until the doors closed.

* * *

Madara waited until the whir of the elevator told him that Sasuke was on his way back down to one of the lower floors to pull his phone out of his pocket. Dialing a number, he waited until the line had been picked up.

"Make sure that our young Sasuke doesn't run off to Hebi," he said. "I wouldn't want any ill to befall the plan, and we both know that upsets loosen lips."

_It also seals them, sir._

"Be that as it may." Madara's glance fell on the vast expanses of the city, fading into atmospheric haze and pollution. The tall tower sprouting out of Ame's rabble made the corners of his mouth curve upward. "I would take no chances. Too much has yet to fall into place."

_As you wish._ The line went dead, and Madara pocketed the phone, then beckoned one of the waiting secretaries over. "Summon Itachi."

"Sir, he is not in the tower. Security informed me that he took his car some hours ago and left, without saying a word."

He felt the stirrings of paranoia. Itachi seemed loyal enough, and was certainly committing himself to the duties Madara gave him with alacrity, but Madara had not survived and prospered as long as he had by being overly trusting. "Find him."

* * *

Neji had left the windows open to catch some of the sun-warmed breeze, and it stroked Itachi's naked body, cooling the sweat that beaded up on it where it wasn't pressed against the fabric of the chair he lounged on. Neji's beautiful hair rippled in the weak light, and he reached down to stroke it, holding it out of the way so he could watch the muscles work in the Hyuuga's throat and jaw. Then the other did something with his tongue, and Itachi could not watch anymore.

Afterwards, they migrated to the bed, and again he played with Neji's hair. For his part, Neji found the whole thing amusing. "Do all Uchiha have a hair fixation? I often see Madara toying with the ends of Hinata's hair, and cannot help but notice that with the exception of your brother you all keep your hair long." he asked. Itachi let that voice (soft and husky, just as a bedroom voice ought to be) echo in his ears for a moment before wetting his lips.

"Perhaps. It's hard to say." He leaned over Neji, who was laying on his stomach, and gently bit the point of one scapula where it raised up through the flesh, and took great pleasure in Neji's shudder. "I think we all know how to appreciate beauty."

Neji's toes were curling when Itachi trailed his blunt nails down the Hyuuga's back. His voice was thicker with lust when he spoke. "And in what ways do you—"

The shrill tone of Itachi's cell phone cut him off, and with a groan, Itachi realized it was the tone he'd set for Madara. Muttering a few choice curses in several languages, hearing Neji do the same behind him on the bed, Itachi stalked over to his pants and pulled his phone out, answering it quickly. "Uncle."

_Itachi. Good to know you are still alive._

"Have you been trying to reach me?"

_No, but you didn't tell anyone where you were off too—we were most concerned._

Itachi rolled his eyes. "I apologize and thank you for your concern, but—"

_I am calling to say you are requested back home at once. The family must discuss a certain matter._

He sighed, reached for his shirt. On the bed, he watched Neji suppress a groan. The Hyuuga rolled off the mattress and stalked into the bathroom, and Itachi could clearly see the tension lines etched so solidly under pale skin accented by his red scratches. "I understand, uncle. I shall be home posthaste." Thumbing the off button, he listened to the water running in the sink and pushed the door open, catching Neji around the waist before the Hyuuga had a chance to retreat to the shower.

"And I shall be back for you," he husked, lips meeting Neji's. "You can be certain of that."

"Perhaps. But your uncle will most likely call you away again." Neji's actions were sharp and precise, and by that Itachi knew he was angry.

"We can arrange a time. Even Madara has other things he must see to."

"You serve him so faithfully despite being committed to our cause." Neji turned, leaning against the vanity, looking up at Itachi. "I have seen many men torn in two because of things like this. I do not want you to be another." He looked away and murmured something that sounded to Itachi like _You are the one I wish to hear me,_ but it made little sense, and he instead turned Neji to look at him again.

"You will not have to bear it longer. But only for a little, now." He moved away, pulling one of the white towels from their discreet rack by the bed and cleaning himself off with it before dressing. "That which yields is not always weak, Neji. You should know that."

* * *

Madara paced in front of them like a caged lion, anger evident in every move. "Is it not too unreasonable to ask," he snarled, eyes flashing rage in their direction, "That my two deputies in this city _not _run off and be out of contact with me for extended periods of time?"

Fugaku's stare was level, but Itachi noted that his father's knuckles were white, and a tic was going in his jaw. For his part, Itachi did not flinch in the face of Madara's anger as the underlings had. They had been sent scrambling by the force of it, coiling around Madara like a living thing, if only because he felt that at the first sign of weakness Madara would strike and that would be the end of him. Sasuke, however, shifted uncomfortably. Itachi almost put out a hand to still his younger brother but stopped short as their uncle rounded on him.

"And you!" he hissed, dark eyes like to throwing off sparks. "You besmirch the name of our family with your reckless cavorting!"

Sasuke's chin came up proudly, and Itachi drew in a sharp breath as the young man spoke, "I don't know what you're talking about." Itachi would have put his hand over his face.

"Do you know who saw you?" Madara's voice was low and dangerous. "Do you know what tongues will wag and say that a scion of the Uchiha was seen disporting himself in public view with his teacher? Had you any consideration what this may do for your reputation?" His eyes flashed again, and Sasuke shrank back. "Have you no mind to that task I gave you? You've precious little time left, Sasuke, and I would that you not leave it to the last minute of the year."

_What task?_ Itachi thought.

"I will not have this happen again," he said, stepping back to glare at all of them. "Itachi and Fugaku, you two know better than most how much I am needing your aid. Neither of you go anywhere without my express permission, and believe you me, I will be checking with security—the entire team will be replaced, so there are none who are too familiar with any of you—to see if you come and go otherwise. As for you, Sasuke…" Madara's lips curved up in a furious smile. "You know what it is you need to do. Pray that you do it before the last of December, or so help me, I will do it myself."

At that moment, a servant cleared his throat. Madara's head snapped around from the three of them to this new intrusion. "What is it _now_?"

"Hinata-san, sir," the young woman said. "She has returned from her appointment at the hospital."

The older man's annoyance did not abate. "Is she here to speak, or must I go running about the tower after her too?"

"She sent a note with me, sir." The servant, visibly shaken, held out a single sheet of paper. Madara snatched it out of her hand and unfolded it, scanning the contents. He did it once, then again, and a smirk very slowly made its way across his face, one that Itachi liked not at all. Something had just made Madara very happy. The man looked over at them all, a devilish light in his eyes.

"I shall continue this no further, though to be sure if this were another time you would have felt the lash," he said sharply, but that smile was still in place. "But for the sake of my child, I will not." He turned back to the servant. "She is certain?"

"The doctor confirmed it." Now that she wasn't under the full force of Madara's ire, the young lady was more relaxed. "It would explain her illnesses recently."

"I must go see to my wife," he sad. "I expect neither of you to question me in this matter, and obey. Fugaku, prepare a statement for the media, and tell them we will hold a press conference tomorrow. The city that loves us will want to know we are expecting."

All three bowed as Madara left, rising only when he was gone. They all shared a look between them, and got immediately to work. Itachi, taking papers over to a small desk stocked with envelopes, his laptop, and a small printer, gestured Sasuke over. The younger brother put his book down and came over, leaning over the desk as if to look at something.

"What is this task Madara has set you to?" he asked softly. If Madara had Sasuke in this Akatsuki group that he'd gotten Itachi into, he thought, then Sasuke was no safer than before. Next to Neji, Sasuke was the only one that Itachi put any stock in. His father had long ago lost most of his will, and he would venture to think that most of the rest of the Uchiha loved Madara too much to ever think of rebellion. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sasuke pale. "Is he making you work with others on this?"

"No! It's something I have to do by myself." Sasuke bit his lip. "I cannot speak of it to anyone, not even you. Uncle Madara would—well, you heard him just now."

"You must tell me."

"I can't, Itachi." Sasuke's face was pained now, though he fought to hide it. Orochimaru could have schooled him better in the arts of subtlety, Itachi thought with exasperation. If Madara came back and saw that look on Sasuke's face, he would start asking questions that did not need to be answered.

"Perhaps in time, then," he said, turning to look at his brother. "When you are ready."

Sasuke took a deep breath and offered his brother a small smile. "When I'm ready."

* * *

Hinata was out on the balcony, smiling as she drank her tea in the morning sunlight. Madara was pleased that she was wearing a thick coat, for it was chilly out, and came up behind her. "I have heard the news," he said simply, wrapping his arms around her. "I am glad."

The Hyuuga's face lit up, fair glowing with joy as one hand rested on her still-flat belly. "I h-had a feeling," she murmured. "Are you r-really pleased with me?"

"I am well pleased, little one," he murmured. Again his warmth, the scent he always seemed to have about him, that very _maleness_ that captivated her every time worked its magic. She leaned into him, the almonds she'd been holding in her hand falling to the ground. Their lips met.

"Th-the gynecologist told me I was a little over a month along, probably," she said, when they pulled apart and he had picked up more almonds from the little dish on the table next to them, feeding them to her one by one. "The child will be born in July at the latest, b-but probably June since it is my first."

"A summer child. Fitting for an Uchiha." Madara stepped away, leaving her shivering momentarily in the wind while he poured himself a cup of tea. "Bodes well for the future." He handed her her cup, after pouring a little more water into it to warm it again, and held his up in a toast. "To our child."

Much to Hinata's pleasure he lingered over brunch, despite her knowing that he was busy with other things, and protested when he said he would go deliver the news to Hiashi himself that afternoon.

"Your father needs a reason to trust me, Hinata," he said, stroking her cheek. She leaned into his touch, looking up at him with lavender-tinged eyes. "He has never liked me. Let me give him a reason to do so."

* * *

Hiashi was sitting at his desk, going over reports from his own contacts and Neji's weekly reports that afternoon. It was sunny and humid; the air conditioning in the room was going full blast, stirring his grey-touched hair. Neji's precise wording made a small smile cross his lips—his nephew belonged in a university of the highest caliber, or an editing department somewhere. Certainly he was excellent at anything he put his hand to, and especially at getting the interests of the Hyuuga Corporation across to his clients. That was one of the only reasons Hiashi kept him in his demeaning station.

The phone buzzed, and Hiashi put it on speakerphone. "Yes?"

_Uchiha Madara is here to see you, sir._

Hiashi froze, staring at the little red light on the phone. What was Madara doing here? "Send him up."

In the few moments he had to wait, Hiashi straightened his suit and hair, tidied his desk, and arranged the black roses and xeranthemum in their vase. Madara, despite being almost twenty years his senior, was technically his son. Etiquette demanded fairness, and if it was chilly that could be chalked up to a father's prerogative. There were no love matches in this world, made with both families accepting the suitor wholeheartedly.

"Madara," he said as the man entered alone. Courteous, familiar, but not warm. Perfectly acceptable.

"Hiashi," Madara inclined his head. Son by marriage, rival by blood, aye, and insulting him by leaving off the honorific that would have only been proper to give to a father-in-law. Hiashi forced himself not to react. He was Hyuuga, and better than this belly-crawler. "It is good to find my father in such fine health."

"And you, son." Hiashi regretted not keeping a bevy of servants and underlings around, preferring the solitude; he hated being alone with this man. Despite Madara being wed to Hinata, he always felt a slow surge of unfamiliar desire, but then again, he had the understanding that Madara did that to everyone. Who was at the security desk today? He thought. Was it the Inuzuka boy?

"I thought it meet to pay my father a visit, without the usual cluster of retainers. This is not a business meeting, after all." He approached, gestured to a chair. "May I?"

Wary, Hiashi made a small gesture of acquiescence and stepped behind his desk again, sitting. "Please do." A modest, respectful Madara? What was going on? "May I offer you tea?"

"Certainly."

Hiashi called down to the kitchens for it. "How is my daughter?"

"Glowing, and more beautiful every day." Madara's smile was magnanimous, charming, but it held something in its depths that disturbed Hiashi. "I do appreciate your blessing. Hianta was so happy when you agreed, you see. Life with the Uchiha is not so bad, and she has found out that we can maintain the exacting standards of the Hyuuga."

The Hyuuga family head smiled thinly. "If Hinata is yet happy in this union, then I would be loath to break it through any means," he said. "It will take some doing, but I may even get used to seeing her in your colors. But if you think you and yours can take Hyuuga's place in her heart, you are sorely mistaken."

A small muscle twitched in Madara's cheek. "She does love her family. Her cousin, in particular…"

"Neji, my twin brother's son."

"Yes, him. The Hyuuga whore, they call him, did you know?"

"I am aware of my nephew's reputation."

"Indeed." Madara tented his fingers, that damnable smirk on his face.

"Is it customary for Uchiha to insult their host?" Hiashi asked. Why couldn't he remember who was at the monitors? Once he would have known exactly who was on shift. "Every time you have come here you seem to do so."

"It's nothing, really." Madara replied. "I simply hate seeing the old ways clung to so strongly."

Hiashi glared at him. "Hyuuga maintains its own tradition, Uchiha," he said, voice hard as stone. "And I will be dead before I see my daughter scorn her heritage and become as arrogant as her husband, who surpasses even the most prideful of my family."

The Hyuuga did not like to admit Madara impressed him in anything, but the man was remarkably cool. "It was of Hinata I wished to speak, actually, Hiashi," he said, tilting his head. "You see…"

It happened impossibly fast—Hiashi felt his breath leave him from the first kick, then the pain in his knees from the second. There was no time to reach for the gun under his desk. Madara came round and stood in front of him, looking down with the disdain he might show to mud.

"You are nothing anymore," he said, quite calm. "Your ways and time are long ended, and it is up to I to reshape the world as I see fit, for the greater good."

"When have you worked for the greater good? When have you done aught that served others than yourself?"

"When it serves me in the end." Madara smiled, kneeling down, pressing points on Hiashi's body with slender fingers. In a panic, the Hyuuga realized that Madara was paralyzing him, so that he was helpless when the Uchiha lifted him easily back into his chair, positioning him carefully. "You will thank me, for the sake of your grandchildren. They'll live as princes."

"If you are going to kill me," Hiashi said, voice muffled and thick with paralysis. Madara had not touched any pressure-points above his chest, but it was difficult to breathe. "Then do so. But you cannot cow me into eating out of your hand."

"Oh, Hiashi-san," Madara purred, reaching out to lay a hand along the Hyuuga's cheek. "I could never besmirch such a man as you that way. After all, I have the honor and lineage of my children to consider." He moved his hand away and put it inside his suit coat. "A pity you'll never meet them. Hinata was so looking forward to telling you she is carrying my child."

Hiashi's silvery eyes widened, attention torn between what Madara had just said, and the hand in his coat. "She is…?"

"It was just confirmed," Madara said airily. "But that doesn't matter to you anymore. I shall look with fondness on how we sparred over her hand, even though it comes to naught in the end. Goodbye, Hiashi-san." And he began to pull his hand out.

Hiashi had known this was coming, known from the moment Madara had begun seduction of Hinata, that he would die by this man's hand. It was inevitable; those who treated with Madara died in ways that were not always pleasant. Sitting in his chair, paralyzed, Hiashi would join their ranks.

_Hinata,_ he thought sadly. _Neji. Hanabi. Forgive me._

_Hizashi, forgive me for not caring better for your son._

Madara pulled his hand out all the way. Inexplicably, it was empty, but he made of his fingers a mock gun, pointed it at Hiashi's heart, and made a _pop_ with his lips, smiling all the while.

There was the sound of shattering glass, and a sudden sting.

And then nothing.

* * *

Madara bent over Hiashi's body, checking to make sure there was no pulse in the finely made neck. It was clear to see that Hinata took more after her mother, but all Hyuuga had that pale skin like finest ivory, and Hiashi was no different.

His cell phone rang, and idly he pulled it out, closing Hiashi's staring eyes. "Yes?"

_Am I a good shot or what, un?_

"Indeed you are." Madara could have sneered at the window, but refrained, instead making for the elevator. "Clean and precise."

_See you back at Ame, boss._

Madara hung up and thumbed the button for the ground floor. While he descended he smiled. Ill deeds, done skillfully, only added to his fine mood.

The elevator doors pinged open on the lobby, and he rushed out, grabbing the first Hyuuga of any importance he saw. "Hiashi!" he shouted, gripping the man's forearms hard. "Hiashi is dead, and there is a sniper on the next roof! As you love life, hurry!"

As the lobby turned into a flurry of motion, Madara locked eyes with the brunet manning the security station, and in an act of needing something to lean on, went over to the kiosk.

"You saw nothing, right?" he murmured, dark eyes bright. The young man swallowed, pushing a disc toward him, nodding.

"Nothing, sir," he whispered, looking sick. Madara smiled thinly and picked it up, putting it in a pocket.

"Good." He sank with the appropriate dramatic flair onto a nearby couch and pulled out his phone again, dialing Hinata's number.

_Madara?_

"My dear," he said, voice sorrowful, "I'm afraid something's happened to your uncle…"

* * *

The mood this time was somber, sorrowful as the press assembled on the steps of the Hyuuga tower. Hinata's eyes were red, and no amount of makeup could hide their puffiness—nor, indeed, the subtle glow that her gravidity lent her. She stood close by Madara, who had an arm about her slender shoulders and kept her at his side as he walked up to the podium.

"Hyuuga Hiashi needs no eulogy, for all of us to know his character," the Uchiha said. His voice was couched in the perfect tones; equal parts sorrow and sincerity. All would note his careful attention to his grieving wife. "He was a man of stature who brought his family to the heights it enjoys today. He faced hard decisions, and bore the strain of his station with a poise that most of us could only hope for. If he was strict, it was that stringency was needed. The world will indeed miss this great man, taken before his time by the bullet of a most despicable outlaw."

Hinata sobbed, and Madara paused, kissing her hair. "Let me assure you, ladies and gentlemen of the press, that our families are working closely with the police to uncover the identity and motive of this unknown shooter. My own nephew, Itachi, is on the case. Doubtless he will have it solved by nightfall." Scattered laughs, quickly suppressed as Madara made to speak again.

"It saddens me more that my father by marriage will never be able to meet his grandchild, due some eight months hence. Today we were to announce that Hinata is with child, with all our family arrayed here. Now we come before you in mourning. We thank you and all who could not be here for support in this time of trial. Good day." With that he stepped back, though the press surged forward to ask questions of him. Off to the side, Neji shivered, heat leeched from his body by more than the chill wind.

As they went inside again, Itachi contrived to bump into Neji, nudging them both behind a marble column. "This was no sniper," he murmured, voice barely above the susurrus of the people in the lobby already.

"I know," Neji murmured, one hand on Itachi's arm. "Will you look into it as said?"

Itachi thought of his already-full schedule, of the manila folder on his table that signified another job for Madara. "I will."

Neji looked up at him, and Itachi was surprised to see the beginning of tears glitter before the Hyuuga looked away, too proud to show them or let them fall. "Then thank you."


	13. Chapter 13

The pathologist frowned over Hiashi's body as it lay on the cold slab. "There's no way this was all from the sniper's bullet," she said, gesturing with a gloved hand to the purple bruises on the man's chest. "Absolutely no way. Look here, you can even see the outline of a shoe's heel."

"But the shot was what killed him?" the reporter asked, leaning over the body as well. He'd taken a few science classes as an undergrad, and had done work with forensics in graduate school. He had a basic understanding of trauma. The bruises did look extensive.

"Oh, a shot to the heart will kill anyone." The pathologist waved her hand. "These are perimortem, but since they're so dark there was still blood flow to interrupt when these were laid. I'd say they happened within a few days of death, if not the same day. And these..." she gestured to smaller, circular bruises along his torso and arms. "You know what these are?"

"No idea."

"Acupuncture points." The pathologist's brow arched. "We had to check because we had no idea what could produce this at first. These points, when stimulated at the same time, paralyze from the neck down."

"Someone gave him a blow to the chest, paralyzed, and shot him?" The reporter answered her arched brow with one of his own. "Far-fetched, don't you think?"

"Yeah, that's the problem." She went about cleaning the body. "That and his family wants him sent to the mortician yesterday."

"Wouldn't they want to know about this?"

"I tried to get in touch with the heir's husband, but he waved me off. Said the guy must have injured himself training in some martial arts, Hyuuga are fond of those." She snorted. "Guy comes back after years away and bosses the city around in months."

"Thanks," the reporter said, packing up his recorder. "Anything else interesting for me?"

"Nah, I'll call you if anything else comes up though."

They exchanged pleasantries about their families and the reporter left, buttoning his coat against the pervasive chill of the morgue. The cold grey concrete in here sometimes made him feel like he was really in a crypt.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and the reporter looked up from where he'd been fishing into his pockets for his car keys. Well, if it wasn't Madara's protégé. His face was expressionless, and the fluorescent light glinted off his uchiwa lapel pin as he paused, looking at the reporter.

"Uchiha Itachi, right?" the reporter asked. "Mind if I get a statement?" All the Uchiha gave him the jitters. They all looked the same, and they were all imposing when they wanted to be.

"You already spoke with my uncle," the young man replied, and they both turned and walked into the press room. "Did you talk to the pathologist already?"

"She agreed with you," the reporter said, handing over the recorder. "Something else happened in that room right before he was shot."

Itachi nodded solemnly, and pulled a folded stack of bills out of his pocket. "I believe this is the amount we agreed upon."

"Thanks."

"No, thank you." Itachi bowed his head politely, and left. The reporter shuddered again as the door clicked shut after him. Those Uchiha really were a creepy bunch.

* * *

The temple was packed, reporters and family and dignitaries from everywhere filling the seats. From the dais, behind Hiashi's polished coffin, Itachi watched them file in and listened to the rustle of fine fabrics and sibilance of hushed voices or stage whispers. It was odd; at such things where they needed to give a show of solidarity, Hiashi had always been there beside his daughter. Silent, but radiating a calm assurance. Itachi had seen the toll that Madara's war upon him for Hinata's hand had taken on the Hyuuga, and as he had at the time, felt remorse for his part in it.

_My actions are what will be the end of us all,_ he thought to himself, and had to keep himself from screaming.

* * *

Jiraiya leaned on his friend's desk. "So that's it, then," he said, putting the report back on top of the stack of others and watching as Tsunade crossed to the small bar hidden behind rich cabinetry and poured herself a very stiff-looking drink. "Mind if I have one too?"

"After reading those?" Tsunade laughed bitterly and poured a second. "You need it more than I do, it looks like."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"We're not left with many choices, are we?" she replied, sitting behind her desk and tenting her fingers. "Orochimaru is elbows-deep in this cracked out conspiracy he's hatched along with the other three. Itachi says that there is something big in the works—oh, he never comes out and says it plain, but it's obvious enough that Madara is up to something in Ame, something having to do with that mysterious big tower. But he's got no solid knowledge of what's going to happen, or if he does he's got Madara over his shoulder as he's writing his reports, making sure that nothing gets out that he doesn't want known."

"We've got to get Itachi away from his family." Jiraiya muttered. "He's much too good a man to be ruined like his father was when Madara came back."

"But there's no way for us to do this without angering the rest of the city." Tsunade put her head in her hands. "The people love Madara, with his beautiful pregnant wife and his high talk of uniting the two powers that divided the city for years. He's like their damn messiah."

"There's always something," Jiraiya said, sighing. "We'll keep trying with Oro, hm? As much as he wants Madara dead, he's a genius, bound to see reason sometime."

"Geniuses are less bound to reason. Wouldn't you know that?" Tsunade made to punch him, and Jiraiya ducked out of the way. "Besides, who could blame him for wanting to go along with the plan that that Hyuuga corporate whore's come up with? We both know best as anyone what went down in Kiri."

"Best cover-up of the ANBU's career." Tsunade lifted her glass, then took a long swig. "The best-kept secret, that both of them were involved and we'd nearly had another street war over it."

Jiraiya was silent, then slid off the desk, smiling again. "I've got faith in you, Tsunade-hime—"

"Don't call me that!"

"—and eventually that pigheaded third of our rat pack will see reason."

"_Before_ Madara uses his skin as a throw rug."

They embraced and Jiraiya left, his BMW pulling into traffic far below. Tsunade watched it go, until it turned toward the hill district and disappeared behind buildings.

"I suppose you heard all of that," she said. A man swathed in warm layers against the pervasive late autumn chill stepped from behind a decorative screen. His face was scarred, one eye closed permanently. "Danzou."

"You know what my solution is," he said simply. His voice was gravelly; he maintained a rugged handsomeness that even the scars couldn't hide. Briefly, she'd been attracted to him, until she realized he was even more of a belly-crawler than Orochimaru.

"I know, and I do not accept it."

"What happens when you run out of options, Tsunade-san?" Danzou's smile was twisted, the scar turning his lips up into a grimace. "Then you'll remember my suggestions."

He hobbled out, leaning on a cane, and left her to stare out the window over the rooftops.

* * *

Sasuke lay in bed with the sweat cooling on his body, listening to the slithering noises of the snakes on the floor and the soft hissing as Orochimaru slept beside him. He'd happily used every trick that he was learning (slowly) from Neji, and Orochimaru had laughed and they'd battered the pillows together until the older man was spent, and had submitted to being petted to sleep. Even now, Sasuke's fingers occasionally ran through the hair that was fine as spider's silk.

The sheets were a navy blue satin today. It was just as pleasing to the touch, and he felt plenty of it as he slid quietly away and reached under the bed. His fingers shook. The knife was one of his favorites, a honed tanto that was his first gift from Orochimaru. It had been presented on a violet pillow, and he'd picked it up.

_What do you think of this blade?_ Orochimaru had asked. Sasuke, by now holding a great deal of knowledge in the proper handling of these small weapons, had put it through its paces.

_I think it's heavy on the back end._

Orochimaru had smiled at him. And that had been one of the first times he realized that there was more to the pleasure he felt than that of being recognized for a job well done.

And now the man slept beside him, sprawled out like an indolent god on his massive bed, one hand flung across the sheets where Sasuke had been laying moments before. Sasuke knelt beside him with the blade in his hand, watching, counting the breaths. If he did it here, he would be safe from the eyes of the security guards. Orochimaru did not put security cameras in his bedroom. Sasuke's deed would not be discovered until morning.

The blade glittered in the light as he shifted it to the correct angle, lowered the point. Raising it would have been more dramatic, but applied properly, there was enough force from his current height to slice through bone. He always kept this one honed sharp, too. It would be a painless death, straight into the heart. He took a deep breath, let out half of it, and—

--flung the blade across the room. It wasn't yet Christmas; Madara could not fault him if he said he was trying to wring the last drops of knowledge out of his teacher's mind. Madara needn't know that Sasuke burrowed beside Orochimaru and slept fitfully until morning, his dreams invaded by the shining silver edge of a knife slicing toward him.

* * *

There are points in one's life when it seems that nothing can possibly get more complicated, that there is no more weight that can be placed upon one's shoulders; and then suddenly, there is more. The breaking point is hit, then it is passed, and the only thing that can be done is to continue going on as though everything is all right.

Itachi had come to this point. It was becoming increasingly hard to find enough time to sleep for the proper number of hours a night. He went to work, came home and took care of his duties around the tower, then went with Kisame on jobs some nights and to the warehouse to install some new machinery or take delivery of some needful things; and when he wasn't either of those places, chances were good he was following Madara around the city or spending precious time with Neji. There was not enough of that last, he thought, leaning his head wearily against the window of the limo. Not enough for him, and not enough for Neji, who bore it well. He deserved better.

Soon though, the elders of the Hyuuga family would convene and choose Hiashi's successor, and Itachi would be in the retinue that Madara brought with him to the meeting. Madara, ostensibly, was going in support of his wife who was first in line, but there was some question of her eligibility due to the fact that not only was she married to someone else, that someone else was an Uchiha, and her children would carry the Uchiha name and be heir to that legacy, and not to the Hyuuga. That, he was sure, suited Madara just fine but was not ideal for the Hyuuga, who would be left without a successor _again_ after Hinata decided to step down. There was that, and the question of her loyalty to her family, now that she was married to the enemy.

"Don't look so morose, Itachi," Madara said from across the limo. He lounged on the plush seat, looking far too serene. They'd come from a meeting with some business partners, who had assured Madara in shaking voices and nervous smiles that they would happily come under his purview, leaving their previous alliance behind for the betterment of their own venture. "After this succession meeting, things will become less _boring._"

How they were boring now escaped Itachi, but he didn't ask, too tired to deal with his great-uncle's smug expressions and his cryptic speeches. Much to his chagrin, he fell asleep on the way back to the Uchiha tower.

* * *

Freed from his duties for the rest of the day—he'd taken the day off work to follow Madara around on business, and Kisame hadn't called him to tell him there was any work to be done, he called up Neji and waited anxiously in the lobby until the Hyuuga came to get him. He would have driven off himself, and Madara's restrictions on his movement be damned, but at the moment, he wasn't wanting any kind of altercation. It would upset the tenuous balance he had in his life right now. He didn't want that.

Neji at last pulled up, and Itachi jogged through the light mist that was falling and got into the car. Brushing droplets from his clothes, he sighed in relief and leaned his head back against the leather headrest. Here, he knew he wasn't constantly being watched or listened in on. He had no idea if Madara actually listened to the recordings he knew were made from every room in the tower. He didn't want to take the chance.

"You look exhausted," Neji said quietly, over some piano concerto playing softly. "Have you been sleeping at _all_?"

Itachi kept himself under control. It had been a week since he'd seen Neji privately, and the first thing that the Hyuuga did was to needle him about not sleeping? If the Hyuuga had half of what he had to deal with…

"Not enough," he said simply. Neji glanced over, and Itachi knew he'd let slip something in his voice. The younger man was trained to pick up variations in tone and probably would have regardless. Itachi sighed. "Not nearly enough."

"And your dear uncle refuses to let you have a night off?"

"Madara doesn't know the meaning of rest. How he continues to swoop about as he does… he sleeps even less than I do now, he is still awake when I finally sleep and wakes before I do in the morning, and he does not seem to be the worse for it at all."

"Does he take time to see to my cousin?" Neji's voice was tight, and Itachi felt again a flare of annoyance but kept it in check.

"He is with her often enough, I think." Itachi shrugged. "I do not always shadow him."

Neji nodded. "Then he should give you that time to rest. You need it." Taking one hand off the wheel, he reached over and rested it on Itachi's leg. "I have seen the shadows under your eyes grow deeper since my uncle's death."

"Madara has me talking to your elders," Itachi said quietly. "He wants the leadership of Hyuuga to fall to Hinata."

"Someone who is easily manipulated, and who would follow his instructions. Someone not Hanabi." Neji's mouth tilted up a little. "Hanabi would turn us back to a militant group of thugs with her whims… but Hinata would be a fine leader, if she weren't married to Madara."

"Agreed," Itachi said, and relaxed again. It was the exhaustion picking at his emotions, causing him to become annoyed with Neji. "But there is little we can do to stop it. Can you petition your elders to choose Hanabi?"

"I have. You forget my place in the family, as apparently I did." Neji's voice was bitter here; one of the many times that his second-class standing had been a huge detriment to him. Itachi thought again of the scientific journals that Neji kept current, the textbooks on genetics—symbols of a life that was no more than a dream. He deserved better than to give his body to strangers, night after night. And he deserved better than Itachi, who could barely come to see him once a week.

"I see," was all the Uchiha could say, as they pulled into the garage that was slowly becoming the haven they wanted it to be. Naruto was already working on some cars; there were a couple at one end, parts strewn all over the floor. Sai's desk had several designs on it in bold colors. Building a client base was the hardest part of this ruse, but it seemed that the boys were doing a stellar job of it already. Neji led the way into the other part of the operation, the part of the building that sheltered the resistance when they met. Here it was quiet too, the glow from several computer screens on one wall lighting the room. He wondered vaguely what they were doing here—they'd done all they could that week, really—but it became clear when Neji tugged him over to a couch that had been set up as a bed.

"You need to sleep sometime," Neji told him, and there was an edge in his voice that indicated he wasn't going to mess around with this. "You look as though you haven't in days. A delirious, hallucinating Uchiha is no use to anyone."

"What about you?"

"You forget that in addition to learning the arts of pleasure, I was trained as a companion." Neji smiled, and sat at one end of the couch. "I am told by my clients that I make a fairly good pillow," he said. "Lie down and rest for a little while. I have covered your absence from your family." His smile only grew when Itachi was asleep the moment his head came to rest in Neji's lap.

* * *

On their way back to the Uchiha tower, after a few hours of much-needed sleep, Itachi sat up as a car passed them going the other way; not an unusual occurrence, but this car hadn't been ordinary. He checked his phone hastily; no messages at all. Definitely unusual.

"That was Madara."

Neji glanced in his rearview mirror, as the Superleggera stopped at a red light. "So it is. What is he doing not yelling at you to join him?"

"I don't know." Itachi looked over at the Hyuuga. "Shall we find out?"

"I believe we shall." Neji went around the block; the Superleggera had been turning left, and after a quick spin through the alley behind the Uchiha tower, they saw it zoom past. Neji pulled out and they followed at a distance. Traffic at this time was lighter, but not so light that they didn't have plenty of cars to put between the Lamborghini and Neji's Lexus as cover. If Madara noticed them he didn't indicate it.

"He's not heading for Ame, it's the other way," Itachi said, and pulled out Neji's GPS unit. "Wonder what's out this way. No rings of any consequence, so it's not business, unless he's got something else in mind."

"There's not much," Neji said. "Some small-time clients tied to Hyuuga, rings scrambling for the bottom rung. Not many calls for the Hyuuga's whore out here."

"I wish you would not call yourself that."

Neji smirked, but fell silent, thumbing the button for the stereo; Thievery Corporation came on, an odd change from the usual classical. It seemed to fit though, as the buildings got smaller and seedier. The Superleggera was increasingly out of place, as was the Lexus.

"If I remember correctly," Itachi said, breaking the quiet, "This area wasn't developed until a couple decades ago, and when it was, much attention wasn't paid to it. Kiri's a pretty poor district in general, with its own infighting just like Konoha. There used be a powerful family out here, the Kaguyas, but they were all slaughtered." He thought of what Kisame had said about Madara having a hand in the internal war. "Madara was involved out here, a decade or so ago."

"Why?"

"I've got no idea." Itachi watched the taillights of the Superleggera ahead of them. "The person I work with in his little organization mentioned it."

Neji made a little noise. They were quiet for a moment, until Madara turned into a cemetery. Itachi watched him drive down the tree-lined streets between fields of mausoleums and gravestones. "What is he doing here…"

"Know who's buried out here?"

"Lots of people from the time when Konoha was cleaning up, since none of this was very developed then… don't know any names."

"Let's head in." Neji drove around the side entrance and followed the little road there, parking behind a hill with a memorial to veterans atop it. While Itachi pretended to read the names carved into the black granite, conveniently hidden from the rest of the cemetery, Neji tucked his hair back and went around the other side, scanning the area for Madara. He saw the Superleggera parking at a prominent mausoleum, one of purest white stone, and go inside.

"He's gone into one of the mausoleums," Neji reported back. Itachi's brow furrowed as they sat in the car, out of the December chill.

"Wonder what he's doing…"

* * *

Inside the mausoleum it was cold, chilly as the stone it was built from. Madara walked past the other tombs, the one blank slab of marble waiting for the final occupant of this once-mighty family to claim it. His eyes were only on the single tomb at the back of the crypt, carved with the sigil of the family and a name that he knew well.

Long, pale fingers traced the letters, clearing away leaves that had blown in from outside. From a pocket of his coat Madara took candles and put them in the brass fittings at the head and foot of the tomb, two at each end, and lit them. There was a bouquet of withered flowers at the head, but he left them there. Picking up the single red rose he'd brought in, Madara placed it carefully with these withered, browned flowers, its soft petals and green stem seeming out of place.

"I have nearly done it, that thing you said was impossible, once," he murmured softly. "Your only heir cannot stop me."

He was quiet a long time, fingers running back and forth over the name engraved in the stone. So many memories, wrapped up in these letters. So many regrets.

"Would that you were here to see it."

A pause.

"Would that you had come with me."

Turning on his heel, Madara went out of the mausoleum, got into his car, and left.

* * *

"He's gone."

Neji and Itachi drove down to where Madara had been parked, weaving through crumbling, graffiti'd headstones until they got to the mausoleum. It was well-kept, the plants in the stone pots in front neatly trimmed and no trace of juvenile gang symbols anywhere. Itachi looked up at the name carved above the door.

"Senjuu," he said. They shared a look, and went inside. The candle flames fluttered as they entered, but stood straight again. The golden light did not dull the red petals of the rose Madara had left. Neji touched it gently, then leaned over to read the name.

"Senjuu Hashirama." He looked over at Itachi. "Does that—oh…" His brow furrowed. "The man who helped clean up Konoha, the man that Madara fought right before he left."

"Why would he come visit the man's grave?" Itachi touched the petals of the red rose. It was an odd enough gesture to come here at all, but to leave this?

"I'm not sure. But we can find out." On the way back to the car, Neji called up Jiraiya.

_What is it, kid?_

"I need information," Neji said, unlocking the doors so Itachi could get in. "Senjuu Hashirama."

_The first head of the district. There's a lot on him—it's called the Internet, kid, and I—_

"I need to know why Madara would visit his grave and leave a rose."

_Well, sounds to me like a romantic involvement gone sour.._

"Please take this seriously, Jiraiya-san. It's an unusual thing for Madara, and we'd like to know what their connection is."

_Sure, I'll dig up what I can. Payment? I don't think Hiashi's signing your checks anymore._

"I'll negotiate terms with you when I pick up what you have. Thank you, Jiraiya-san, I appreciate it." He thumbed the end call button and looked at Itachi. "We'll know soon."

"Good." Itachi's brow was furrowed in thought. "I do not like it when Madara is unpredictable."

* * *

The hospitality of the Hyuuga family was never in question, even when they were playing host to the man and the family that had taken their preferred successor away. The Uchiha contingent was led to a well-appointed suite with one large room of comfortable couches and tables, a buffet was set up, and two junior members of the family were left to attend them. Itachi found it somewhat disconcerting how all Hyuuga had the same eyes—some shade of grey or pale blue or lavender. They floated about like ghosts, offering drinks, asking in quiet, cultured voices if everything was to their liking and could they fetch anything from the kitchen?

Madara lorded it over them all. Dressed in a black suit with a blood-red tie and the uchiwa pin on his lapel, with Hinata at his side, he'd taken over a private office in the suite of rooms and conducted business from his laptop, sometimes getting up to speak quietly on the phone, other times reading over documents on his computer, one arm around Hinata's shoulders as she read a book.

And all the while, in the head office above them, the fate of the Hyuuga Corporation was being determined.

Itachi had no doubt that regardless of whatever decision the Elders of the Hyuuga family came to, Madara would find some way to wrest things into his control. But if it were to fall to Hinata, then it would be all too easy to influence her. Hinata had been trained for the position before Madara had married her, and Itachi had no doubt that she could be strong, but she was young and inexperienced, and who better to ask for advice than her husband, who had presided over groups of people for thrice as long as she'd been alive? It would be an easy trap to fall into, one that Itachi himself would have made in the same situation. But now he paced, awaiting the announcement. The Elders would have a decision by the stroke of midnight—six hours from now. Outside, the city was lit up in golden streetlights, the glow from cars, the lights in the towers around them. In the distance, Orochimaru's tower held its purple beacon to the sky.

Ever observant, Itachi had noted that Sasuke's eyes darted to it often, and there was fear there. With Madara in the room he could not pry, nor did he want to. Whatever spat was going on between his little brother and the older man, let it remain between them. There was enough going on.

Neji came in clad in a kimono made of cloth-of-silver. It matched him well, Itachi thought, the champagne-colored obi a good choice. "My family asks if there is anything we may do to make your time here more comfortable, Uchiha-san," he said. Itachi had to suppress a smirk. Neji's voice did not indicate any of his loathing of Madara.

"Perhaps speed the hours until midnight?" Madara laughed. "No, boy. I am content."

"Then, perhaps I may have a moment with my cousin, Uchiha-san."

"Of course." Madara removed his arm from Hinata's shoulders, and she stood, a small but radiant smile breaking out on her face. "As long as you like."

"Thank you." Neji bowed low, then offered his arm to his cousin and they left the room. Itachi envied them; they were free to leave, and Neji was so near to him and yet he could not think that they would be able to be with each other now. He sighed, leaning his head against the chilly glass, and tried to relieve the tension settling over his shoulders.

* * *

Hinata's room had been kept just as though she'd never left. The flowers in the vase on the table were fresh, iris and statice a muted spot of color in the room. There wasn't any dust to be found on any surface. "H-have you been having the r-room kept up?" she asked softly, catching her cousin in an embrace.

"The staff always keep it clean." Neji returned the surprisingly strong hug. "For when you visit."

"If I visit i-it'll be with Madara." Hinata giggled. "I don't think we'll both fit in the bed!"

"He may sleep on the floor." Neji smiled, looking at her belly. "How are you feeling?"

"I-I get sick every n-now and then. Not j-just in the mornings. And I e-eat a lot. I'll be getting fat…"

"You must eat to nourish the baby, too."

"I k-know." Hinata smiled, looking at her cousin. "You look tired, Neji-nii."

"I've been working hard." He sat on one of the armchairs in the small living area, and sighed. The whole action made him look even more exhausted. "On various things. Projects of my own."

"Neji…" She sat on the couch near him, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. "I-I've been thinking… no matter which of us g-gets the position, I will get you r-released from your duties." He looked up, but already going, Hinata couldn't stop. "You can apply to all the universities around here—or ones outside the city, maybe you w-want to get away—and finally get all that you deserve. I a-always f-felt bad, how Father used y-you, Neji, you deserve so much b-better. I-I'm really nothing, my life i-is defined by others regardless of who I am married to or what I do, b-but you… you m-may not think it, b-but you are truly free." She took a deep breath, and looked at him. It was much more than she usually said, and she'd spoken rather quickly. "I j-just—you deserve a chance, too, Neji!"

"Hinata…" He half-rose, but she shook her head.

"I'm fine," she said. "The h-hormones must be getting to me. But I m-mean it, Neji-nii. You did such a good job of h-hiding it, when you came up with the acceptance letters from nearly every university in the city and Father t-told you that you could not. I don't want you to be unhappy. You've been the only one who r-really understands sometimes. And when you're there…" her smile brightened even more. "You and Itachi-san…"

Neji colored a little. "We—"

"I haven't told anyone and I won't." She smiled. "It s-should be obvious to anyone who looks."

"That's a comfort." Neji grumbled, but he was smiling.

"Don't w-worry about what happens, Neji-nii," she murmured, but she knew that he would.

* * *

At the stroke of midnight, they assembled in the lobby of the Hyuuga tower. The place blazed with lights, to keep everyone awake, and more young Hyuuga circulated with cups of strong coffee. The press was in front, the others behind them, as the twelve Elders assembled on the dais erected for this announcement.

"We have reached a decision," the foremost among them said when he stepped up to the podium. His skin was wrinkled, his long hair pure white, but his pale blue eyes were clear as a boy's, and his expression serene. He had served Hiashi's grandfather as his right-hand man, and when the old man had died, this Elder had become a Zen monk, and joined the Elder council. "It was not made lightly, nor without much deliberation. We are in a most unusual situation. The heir intended has been married, and carries another's name; her children will go to that family, not to ours. And yet the other eligible for consideration is very young, and untrained. Ultimately we feel our decision is made with merit and in the spirit of what Hiashi-san would have wanted for his family."

The journalists were looking bored. Madara was not fidgeting, but his eyes were narrowed. Hinata looked pale. Hanabi had a very set look on her face.

"It is the decision of the council to give Hyuuga Hanabi the position of family head. But until such time as she turns seventeen years of age, the position will be held in regency for her by Hyuuga Aki."

A thin-faced man stepped forward, his brown hair tied back neatly. He bowed to the room, and then went to stand behind Hanabi. Neji glanced at Madara; the man's expression was set as he applauded politely. There was a spark of _something_ in the depths of those dark eyes, but Neji wasn't close enough to tell what it was, and didn't want to get close enough to try.

The Elders were escorted from the room, and the crowd dissipated. Some reporters turned to the Uchiha members as they left, but Madara turned them all away and slid into the limousine beside his wife, Itachi following his uncle after a quick glance back at Neji, silhouetted on the steps of the tower.

* * *

While Hinata was showering, Madara let his anger show. Brow furrowed, eyes flashing, he snarled and paced, considering the options he had available to him along this path. He had come up with many contingencies in case Hinata did not get the family leadership, and there was one way that he knew was easiest. It would have been better if Hinata had gotten the position, of course, and cheaper, but one simply had to take the cards one was dealt, and Madara was an excellent gambler.

Picking up his phone, he dialed Pein, and rattled off a very specific set of instructions. They had rehearsed this scenario many times, and as he set the phone back down in its charging dock, Madara knew that whatever came of it, Pein would handle things. The man was simply trustworthy, and no mistake about it.

Hinata emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a fluffy robe. Madara was waiting for her in bed by that point, the covers turned down. She slid in and nestled against him, one arm wrapped around his middle.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't get the leadership," she murmured, fingers stroking his skin. He turned out the light and ran his fingers through her hair, to keep from hitting her in his frustration.

"It's no matter," he murmured. "Their reasoning was sound. In any case, this way I get to keep you to myself."

He felt her smile against his chest. "I love you."

Madara was glad that it was dark; she couldn't see his wicked smirk. "And I you."

* * *

They met during the day, while the garage was in operation. Naruto's skill as a mechanic was attracting customers quickly, and every bay in the garage was taken. They'd hired on assistants—some of them happened to be malcontents from Uchiha and Hyuuga, along with some from other more minor rings, that Neji swore up and down he had no part in attracting to their cause. The good thing was that their popularity was a slow burn, not a sudden blaze, something that would attract attention.

"We must not think that Hyuuga is safe," Orochimaru was saying. "A regent can be easily bought."

"Aki is an honorable man," Neji said. "He would not accept bribes, no matter the price."

"We've already seen that Madara will go to any length to ensure his interests are furthered." Itachi leaned forward, taking a sip of his tea. "It is not past him to do anything he must in order to see his plans through to completion. We must assume the worst and be pleasantly surprised if aught else happens."

"An excellent viewpoint," Orochimaru nodded. "One I must agree with, Neji-kun." Neji nodded his head, but didn't seem convinced.

They nonetheless moved on to other topics. When they finished it was late, and Sasuke was complaining he'd miss a race he wanted in on. As Orochimaru's GT500 roared out of the garage after Sasuke on his bike, Itachi ran a hand over his face. Not enough had been accomplished, and Neji's Hyuuga pride had kicked back in. The frustrating thing was that Neji was partially right in that there wasn't any reason to believe that Aki would accept a bribe—but there wasn't any reason to believe he wouldn't, either. Madara had a knack for getting his way.

Neji was leaning against his car, looking at something under the hood with Naruto. Their heads were close together, and they talked in hushed tones as Naruto pointed an oily rag at various pieces of the engine. From what little he could catch, Itachi gathered they were talking business, but the way they were so close rankled him irrationally. Naruto was too pure-hearted to poach, of course, but the voice in the back of his head told him Neji would leave if he had a good enough reason. A lover in absentia was as good as no lover at all, and Neji deserved better than he would ever get from Itachi while Madara lived. Sliding into his car, Itachi left, and didn't look back.

* * *

The leaders of the various smaller rings listened with rapt attention as he spoke, and watching their eyes follow him, Danzou had to keep his elation from showing. This would be a delicate operation either way, needing to be done right.

"The Uchiha muscled you out," he said, raspy voice carrying through the whole crowd that had answered his call. "Under Madara they will crush you like bugs, because that is all you are to them. They don't see the necessity of a diverse group such as yourselves, your people. Without a second thought they will wipe you out and take your businesses for themselves. Madara was only the accelerant to their already too-hot flame."

Not a sound. Danzou loved when their attention was all on him, loved when he could see that they were heeding his words, taking them to heart. "Uchiha is greedy, and it's time we put a stop to them. What you don't hear about in all the press releases, all the things they let the glossies and the newspapers see, is all the infighting. Uchiha is ready to fall, my friends."

A murmur of assent, rippling back from the men and women in the front. They'd all been screwed when Madara had taken power; Fugaku had seen the importance of many smaller groups, if only in that they could be used to take the fall for Uchiha when the time arose, but Madara saw only competition for whatever scheme he'd cooked up, and it would be his downfall. If he could not get Tsunade to agree to his plan, Danzou thought, this was a good contingency plan. One that they all should have had when everything happened the first time, and Hashirama had nearly died.

He hadn't had the balls to kill Madara. But Danzou had no such reservations. It was all for the greater good.

"It is not yet auspicious to try and stop them," he said. "By New Year's Eve, you will know. What better way to slaughter them all than when they are reveling, in one of their opulent chambers, while you all shiver and fight over scraps from their table?" Someone cheered, and that was taken up by the rest of them. Danzou smiled thinly.

Things were coming together nicely, indeed.

* * *

"Sasuke-kun."

The young man looked up from where he'd been contemplating his reflection in the blade of one of his favorite tanto. Sasuke had been taught the proper care of a blade, and for one made of the finest folded steel, he made sure it was kept up well, oiling it and cleaning it. Moreover, lately the cleaning of his weapons kept his mind off the task Madara had given him, off the one time he'd tried, off the many ways he'd contemplated the task but…

He couldn't do it, and yet he had to, otherwise the treachery of his brother would be discovered and they would all fail. Everything he had been taught told him that the death of one could benefit many—logic told him that Orochimaru's death would keep Madara blind to their plots a little longer.

"What is wrong?"

But it was difficult, when his lover had that look on his face, that one that Sasuke had only seen directed at him. He slid the tanto into its sheath, and stood. He couldn't look at Orochimaru now. His turmoil would be seen and raise questions he wouldn't want to answer. "I've got to go," he said quietly, and left. Out on the streets, racing at reckless speeds, things were so much simpler.

* * *

"You're doing us a great service, Itachi," Tsunade said, putting the report in the growing file. She took a good look at the Uchiha, then another, in surprise. The Uchiha were famed for their beauty, and even now Itachi had lost none of it, but his skin had sallowed and dark circles had appeared under his eyes. He looked ten years older. "If there's anything we can do to aid you on your assignment—"

"No." Itachi's voice was hoarse. "I have everything I need."

"Your information points to something happening on or right after New Year's Day."

"I am not yet sure what—"

"You don't need to know. We have everything we need to continue with the investigation."

"Are you releasing me from the assignment?"

Tsunade paused, and schooled herself to keep her eyes on Itachi. Danzou was in the room, as he always was lately—behind a screen, lurking behind a door, always listening somehow, and if it wasn't him it was his loyalists, listening at keyholes. It would drive her mad. She wanted to release Itachi, she truly did, he looked terrible—but if she did, Danzou would drill her as to why, when Itachi was in a position to strike down Madara himself. Danzou himself had something in the works, she was sure of it, but until she knew she couldn't let Itachi be dropped for the other man to use as a pawn.

"Not yet," she said. "We've got a little more work to do yet."

* * *

Madara sat in the huge black chair, staring out across the city. Hyuuga still stood, four days after the judgment of the Hyuuga elders—if Hinata had been chosen, it would have been gone by now, and the preparations for the move to the new building in Ame underway. But that had not happened, and in reality, a large part of him hadn't expected it to. Hinata was no longer the logical choice for the heir, now that she carried his surname and his child.

That last made him pause, the phone in his hand, and curve his lips up in that mysterious little smile of his. That had gone _exactly_ as planned. These great families brought their women up for great fertility, knowing the kind of ties a child of two rivals could bring, the cooling of the fires of hatred. Fires he knew would only grow hotter once things really got underway, after the New Year. Sasuke would have done his duty to the family by then, and brought back into the fold. But that was all in the future, something to think about while he waited for current events to resolve themselves in some fashion.

He dialed a number, and put the sleek phone to his ear. Madara could have called from his cell phone, but why hide Uchiha's intentions? Calling from the tower itself would put this under the aegis of the entire family—which it was.

"Hello, Tsunade."

_You again. What do you want?_

"You know what my demands are."

_I don't think you'll carry through with the threats. There's no reason for me to give up the city._ Tsunade's voice sounded tired over the phone, and Madara could see her in his mind's eye, pacing the floor of her office, looking out through the windows toward where Uchiha's tower loomed above the buildings, the uchiwa blazing away in the dreary light of the day. _My grandfather wouldn't have wanted it._

"Your grandfather was a fool," Madara said. His voice did not betray how faraway his gaze was. "He would have the city run this way in perpetuity, thinking it the best course of action. We know he was wrong on many other things, and _I_ know he was wrong on this."

_Who are you to speak of my grandfather this way?_ Her voice was sharp now; he'd hit a nerve. Good. _It was you, not he, who was run out of town, Madara. Lest we forget._

"But I came back, didn't I?" He spun in his chair, gaze changing from Hyuuga to Hebi, far across the cityscape. Sasuke was there, perhaps even now performing his act of loyalty to the family. The connection that boy had with his teacher was simply unhealthy; it clouded his judgment and slowed Madara's own plans. If it had been his hand on the knife, the disgusting old snake would have been dead weeks ago.

But he'd been there before, hadn't he…

_You came back and you'll fail again. This time, we'll finish the job._

The line went dead, and Madara set the phone back on the cradle, his mouth still curved up in a tight, cold smirk. The pieces were set, waiting only for the first move. He intended to be the one to make it this time.


End file.
